by Claire G.

My toes feel cold as my huge bean bag chair shapes my seat. My chin rests on the windowsill, my forehead rubbing against the glass. I feel the vibrations of the rain as it taps on the window. My muscles relax as I listen. Slowly bigger bursts of rain knock on the window. The moon illuminates the room as no more light is visible. Wind begins sweeping through the branches of the sturdy trees. They wave back and forth as if they are trying to comfort me. The mix of wind and rain start to get stronger and stronger.

My eyes draw down to the mud layering the ground of my backyard. I remember all those times I would run on that grass. My fingers would perfectly skim the fence as my feet rhythmically stamped in the pristine soil. My joyous, powerful, beating heart was bursting and seemed as though it was visible from the outside. The wind would support my body as my legs did the rest.

I look to the right where the tallest, most resilient tree stands in my yard. It had grown with me. It shines through the raspy rain. My grandma planted it. She loves to garden. She has taught me many things about flowers and gardening. My eyes nonchalantly climb up the tree, but my vision is engulfed in memories.

CRACK! Lightning surceases the most meaningful daydream of my life. The memories vacate from my head. My consciousness returns. I don’t have the energy to stand up so I relax and rest my head back on the small, scratchy pillow. I close my eyes, the sounds of rain still audible to my ears.