I struggle to put this place into words, so I will do so sparingly.

This place was a place that had history. It had purpose and life and sometimes I felt as though I could run away here and be content. I could disappear and melt into the rich soil of the earth.

Upstate New York, Pine Planes to be exact. A town in the middle of nothing but trees and nature and all that life has to offer. No big city, no busy streets. I didn’t realize how much I missed this place until now.

As a child, my family would make the long trek from Texas to New York to spend time with family. My favorite place to visit was my grandma's house. The place of escape. The place where any wandering child would wish to discover. The weather never failed to satisfy my desire to feel the morning dew on my skin. With its touch so light only few would notice. And through those few summer days, the sun became my best friend.

But when night rolled around, I felt as though I could float through the air like the fireflies I would catch with my grandpa.

I was young and lost and confused but this was the place where none of that mattered. This place was where I could talk to the earth.

The moons light covering me like a blanket as I lay in the road, time still, falling in love with the Milkyway and all beyond.