It's a place where rules are meant to be broken. where, not only could ice cream be eaten, but it was eaten for breakfast. A place where kids mixed drinks and parents played games. And it was a world of our creation. We built the house of dreams, the house we'd always wanted, and filled it with memories. Not one place or item didn't have a story attached. And in a world you create anything is possible. It was a place where school did not exist and responsibilities were shared equally and only consisted of keeping the boats and dog clean and helping to create food and fun and prepare for that day and the next. It was a place where you lived by the tide or your own clock which were one and the same the weather dictated our activities. it was the place where dreams became reality-my very own Disneyland. And in my eyes huminbirds turned to fairies and sandbars turned into desert islands for me to explore and reap the treaseures of. We had a wild forest in our back yard where foxes and rabbits lived and the reeds were filled with wonderfully enticing noises rustling and splashing that my mind filled with myriads of fantastic creatures and the circle in the reed that we decided could only have been created by a UFO.
And that was the magic of the place because I was not 5 when I believed that the bridge devided the real world from heaven I was 19, and my parents were in there 50's and 60's and felt it too. Where else could I paint vines on my walls and make my own rainforest? Where else was the dog allowed on the couches and bedtime expunged and responsibilities dismissed? It was neverland and we didn't need to grow up. New wonders waited every day every year, new thing waiting to be discover and rediscovered. next year we'll plant blackberry trees and try crab traps and eat all the clams we can find. and again I'll wake and think, as I do every day, that I wish I could take a picture of the view capture the way the light looks filtering through the trees and hitting the water. and the sky and water matching so perfectly in colors, the colors of my curtains that blow in the breeze out onto my deck beconing me out to the next day, the next adventure, but I know nothing could ever capture the life in this plce, the life we all feel and instinctively respond to so that I wake each day with a smile and a happy grin and fall each night into a deep sleep before I have tiome to contemplate counting sheep and I know I'll have to hold it in my memory as best I can until I can return
Each moment is more beautiful than the last and it leaves me sad for some unknown reason with an aching heart that knows I will have to leave and I will never have enough time