Sea of Green

It is the last natural playground of the modern world. Grass sways in the wind; tree branches rustle in the back round, and birds can be heard in the distance. In a world where the disease called urbanization has infected most of the world, every last inch of uninhabited land is treasured. I am lucky enough to have my own bit of paradise right on my doorstep. I have always been fascinated with adventure. Books like The Adventures of Tom Sawyer always captivated me; I find myself dreaming of childhood adventures of exploring forests, meandering down calm rivers, and climbing small mountains. On days when the radiant sun shines and the sky is the bluest it can be, a day like today, I find myself drawn to this field for both adventure and peace.
I walk along a cool-grey concrete path that is like a barrier, separating two completely different worlds. Upon reaching a good spot to enter the field, I stop, and with a sort of awe, observe my patch of paradise. To my right, there is a line of tall trees that stretches from the path to a fence that borders the other side of the field. To my left, the field becomes a large bowl, resembling the terrain of the crater of an asteroid strike. There is another fence that creates the last part of a border for the field. The space is not immense, but it is enough for a home away from home. In front of me, an escape from all of my problems, behind me, a world of flashing lights, troublesome people, stress-inducing school, and a sinking economy.
I take my first steps into the field, toward the trees. The soft blades of grass around me brush against my ankles, as if to reach out and greet me. I inhale the scent of sweet smelling flowers and sage. The grass close up looks like a forest from above; each blade of grass a tall redwood tree, each bug a small person, and each small pebble a boulder. A giant compared to me though would see the field as a sea of rolling green waves coming to rest at a tall dark green and brown cliff. But to me, I just see a field, not a forest, not a sea, just unaffected land. As I walk through the field, I have to pay attention to where I step. There are rocks to trip over, gopher holes to lose shoes in, and the occasional harmless garden snake slithering through the grass to almost step on. Walking, jumping, tripping – I press on through the field. Whether I am looking down or keeping my head up, there is much to observe. I see how the trees cast long shadows across the ground. I see how the grass twists and swirls in the breeze. I watch the birds nesting in the branches. I watch little rabbits hop to and fro through the tall grass. Once I reach the trees, I then decide to walk toward my “sittin’ spot”.
This field has many memories to me. I was a child that craved excitement, so this field was the perfect landscape for my imagination-spawned adventures. It was and still is the backdrop of my life. This field was a new frontier and a battlefield and a distant planet and a wasteland and a desert (in the summer) and a meadow (in the spring). I remember days of playing hide and go seek in the field. I would sit, motionless, my eyes scanning the swaying grass for the seeker. I could feel the grass swirl around me, the wind tousling my hair, and the rocks poking my legs. I remember basking in the heat of a sunny, sweat running down my face, slowing piling rocks up into a wall to make a primitive fort. Those were the days of my adventures. Even though they were simple adventures, they meant a lot to me.
As I arrive at my “sittin’ spot”, I look around to take in my surroundings. I am on a small hill, overlooking the dip in the field. I choose the area of ground where the grass is flattened, from a long forgotten fort. The view is one of great symbolism. Immediately in front of me, there is a thriving, beautiful field: Bunnies hop amongst the tall grass, crickets chirp to a steady beat, birds call “sweet nothings” to each other in a language that I can not understand, yet it still pleases my ear. If I were to cast my eyes up from the field, I would see a very different world. Bright, bold, brash – there is a world of chaos and confusion, violence and hatred, worry and fear. I see a house: windows dark, curtains closed, and looking dead. I see a small child, robotically “shooting hoops”; there is no life in the way he moves. I see smoke in the distance, most likely caused by a careless smoker, yet I also see my home. The lights are on; the curtains are open; the house looks alive. I sit on the hill for a few minutes, appreciating my surrounding and observing the strange world in front of me. Finally, I rise from my spot.
As I walk through the field, back to that other world, I sum up my thoughts, my memories, and my adventures. My mind is in a state of complete numbness. I reach the path again, that barrier between the two worlds. I take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of flowers and trees and grass and cows and wood and sage. I step on to the sidewalk and begin walking, back toward the one inviting home I see, not looking back at my other home. Once I reach the steps to my house, I steal one more glance back. The sun is now setting behind the trees. The chirps of crickets begin to grow but with an obvious crescendo in volume while the birds begin to fade. I am back in the world of chaos. Essays are due; tests need studying for; dinner needs cooking, and homework needs completing. Even though I am saddened by my departure from my other home, I know I am fortunate to still have one to return to another time. The one thing that I need to know is that it will be there when I wake up, and when I go to sleep. This field – pleasant yet dangerous, exciting yet calming, inanimate yet alive, will always hold a special place in my heart.
-Michael