The Place Where I Play Pretend
He stood at the edge of the longest, highest branch, his arms spread wide. He looked toward the bright blue sky, toward the sun, watching as a lone bird flew by. Wind shuffled his hair and pushed him back. He took a deep breath and let himself fall, meeting the cold, blue water with a calm face. He sunk deeper and deeper, his ears popping, his mouth shut tight. He opened his eyes and winced as they began to sting.
Light scattered through the surface of the water, calling him back, but he didn't listen. He let the water pull him deeper, deeper into the lake. He wanted to stay here forever, far under the water. He could dream here. He could pretend here. No one cared, here. Here, in this place, where his face went unrecognized and nothing reminded him of his home, he could pretend his mother was alive. He could imagine his sister caring for him. He could almost believe his father loved him, was proud of him.
But once his lungs grew too tight and the need for air was urgent, his dreams vanished with his first breath of air.
"Are you all right?" As he stumbled out of the water, gasping for much needed, but not wanted air, his face grew cold. Expressionless.
"I'm fine." He walked away, his uncle staring sadly from behind.
"Why are you doing this to yourself?" But his words were much too quiet, never greeting his nephew's ears.