Finding the Spirit World: Journey through the Forest and Time
Walking down one of the park's many pathways, I was bombarded with memories of my childhood. Running through the woods in a game of hide and seek, picking flowers from one of the numerous fields, and watching the lives of the tadpoles and minnows that called the stream their home. After my father left, my mother had to pick up a few part time jobs just to get by. The park became my safe haven, protecting me from the complexity of the adult world waiting at home.
Looking up past the canopy of trees, I gazed at the clouds that had been painted in oranges, pinks, and reds from the sun setting on the horizon. The calls of the song birds were beginning to mellow as they settled in for the night amongst the boughs of the towering oak trees. A breeze blew by, gently ruffling my hair and making the long grass in the fields dance.
Sitting down on one of the park benches that lined the stone pathway, I thought of how beautiful this place was. After I had grown out of my younger days, I had been visiting the park less and less, and once I moved into the big city to study art in college, trips to the park became nonexistent. Only recently had I moved back home for the summer, and once I was home I soon remembered my childhood retreat.
Standing up from the bench, I traveled farther down the well worn path. For a while, I just walked. I didn't think about anything, I merely enjoyed the scenery. I eventually came upon the small bridge that allowed passage over the creek that ran through the park. It was wooden and painted a vibrant red. I had always loved dangling my legs over the edge and watching the small fish and turtles fight the current. Now, I paused and peered over the handrails into the water below. There were a few frogs sitting upon rocks jutting out of the water's surface, croaking into the approaching night.
Life seemed so simple here compared to the bustle of the crowded city. The city never seemed to take a moment to catch it's breath, to calm itself down enough to enjoy the purity and simplicity of the world. Here, the air was clear and clean and seemed to wash the troubles right out of one's head. I continued over the bridge and back onto the path. Further down the trail, I could see that that the pathway became more rugged, with grass encroaching upon the walkway and the trees above seeming to draw together, creating a roof of rustling leaves and branches. Another memory hit me. I remember every one of my friend's parents would warn of the "mysterious things" living in the woods. With a soft chuckle, I remembered never heeding their warnings, and exploring the woods for hours, finding so many fascinating things. Circles of mushrooms I had been certain fairies planted there, the hole of a snake or a vole, and even the occasional fox sighting.
As I reached the edge of the woods, I reached down to take off my shoes. Standing back up to my full height, I paused to admire the entrance to the forest. In my childhood, it truly seemed a magical place, and even now as a young adult of twenty, the wooded area still seemed to emit an ethereal and magical aura. Another small breeze blew by, gently pushing against my back. Heeding the wind's encouragement, I made my way into the Kohaku forest.