When I was a kid, there was this cool bunch of trees near my house. They were like my secret hideout, a place where I could go with my friends to hang out. Me and my friends used to climb the trees and when on top of the trees would just start talking, feeling as comfortable as ever, we would just talk..
Those trees knew all my childhood secrets. We’d talk about everything with the trees beside us, as if their leaves held some kind of tranquility. In the summer, the shade they threw down was a lifesaver, shielding us from the blazing sun. And when fall came, it was like our own little party with leaves raining down, and us playing with the leaves below that had fell.
I’ve moved out of that neighborhood, but those trees are in my memories. I remember when I fell from one and scraped half of my arm from the elbow to my wrist. Now, I sometimes think about the times when I would have fun with just trees and leaves.