I was 10 years old the first time I closed my eyes and saw luscious green foliage rustling in the gentle breeze. My breathing slowed to match the stillness in the air. As I turned my head, all around me were majestic trees with moss-covered trunks. The gnarled boughs were as wise as the roots, extending their reaches far and wide above the ground, their leaves forming the most magnificent canopy.
Startled by its otherworldliness, I gathered my bearings and wondered at the beauty of this place, steeped in calmness. A safe haven. I began to frequent this place, venturing farther and farther into the woods. I became familiar with the pulsing silence, the thick underbrush, the Jurassic ferns, the humming insects, the opulence of this exquisite forest.
Several years later, I stumbled upon a small cabin. It was a plain cabin, lifted about five feet off the ground, accessible by a set of wooden stairs. There was only one window, and from where I stood, I saw only darkness inside. I couldn’t bring myself to move. The cabin stood forebodingly in the dense shrubs and writhing branches, as if daring nature to try and swallow it up. I was captivated. I returned to the cabin in the following months but never made it past the stairs.
One day, I closed my eyes and I was inside the cabin, just like that. It was completely dark save for a deep blue glow through the window; it was dawn. I was lying on a cabin bed. I glanced towards the ceiling and noticed a tiny flickering, neon light. I stared, awestruck, at the firefly and held my breath, afraid that it would disappear. After ten minutes, I got up and opened the door to the stairs. The air was fresh and moist from the dew. There was a lightness in the air. Unknowingly, a smile crept over my face as I stood at the top of the stairs, admiring my lush green guardians, silent but all-knowing. I let out a deep breath, happy to be finally at home.
Daily Word Prompt – Roots