It smells like it’s about to rain again. I climb the spiral staircase carved into the ancient Sequoia. Sugarsticks and Wintergreens bloom lovingly, welcoming me as I ascend; rushing and pushing, they chase me up and
around. From the crown of the tree the world expands. Beyond the woods, amid the grass swaying for miles, sits a peaceful cottage, a plume of purple smoke swirls from the chimney. There’s my home.
I grip the firm trunk and the branches wrap around my hand as I stretch. I leap from my perch and the earth rises to meet me. The forest floor is malleable under my feet, creating a slide. The dirt cakes my pants and hands as I laugh and roll. The mice and woodrats are woken as I barrel through the undergrowth, and it is not just the critters caught by surprise. I launch myself upwards and spring over a red Roosevelt elk. She rolls her eyes and sends me off with a short bugle. I land on both feet almost stumbling, a black bear tumbles into me. It looks like I just interrupted something. Awkward. The bear grunts before throwing me off.
I soar through the sky, reaching out to a tall redwood. My fingers brush leaf and branch as I swing through the forest. The smell of smoked fish reaches me on the purple plume of smoke. She’s waiting for me. I increase my speed and the ground falls away beneath my feet, feeling every muscle flex in anticipation. I feel my heartbeat in my calves from the effort, my toes wiggling against the air. The forest can feel my grip slipping, their trunks start to bend to catch me. Coyotes and foxes below me howl in encouragement, chasing my shadow.
Finally, I dive towards the forest floor, breathing in the pine as the grass shoots up to cushion my landing. The bright warmth of the fire greets me, but it is her touch that burns me inside out, shedding every bit of exhaustion. Her laughter seems to suspend her in the air as I throw her up; we are always living. ▲
