The world can sometimes be a place, just a place and nothing more, but other times it is a living, thriving, moving object that is kept alive by the animals and people living on it. The world can be an open book to tell a story. This story is an adventure to a park in the middle of Richardson, Texas with a forest that is just waiting to spill its secrets. Occasionally a passerby will come upon this place, wondering what in the world it is doing hiding from people. One day, a year ago, a normal boy found this place.

            It was a summer afternoon and I had decided to go to Breckinridge Park only a few minutes away. Walking in the morning sun, I found I was noticing the subtle shades of green in the grass and the nettles that prick the underfoot while treading on them. There was a natural alcove near a creek that flowed winding down back and forth split the park in half.  A small trail off the beaten path was covered in vines and bushes. Relaxing in the shade I listened to the birds, watched people go by, took the time to see the beautiful world. I started down that trail winding and twisting until it stopped at a creek. I noticed a crane slowly stalking in the water spying on fish. Continuing on, there was a cliff, vines hanging down its slope like a boat’s rigging. The peace and calm was soothing to the mind, allowing me to forget all troubles and focus on nature, no worries, no pain, and no irritation, perfect harmony, in the trees, the breeze, and the insects that buzzed loudly. Walking home, it was sad leaving all of the happiness behind, trudging on the concrete, tired and worn out. Arriving at my destination, I was comforted by the fact that at home, I could relax as well and remember the amazing gift I had been given.

            The remembering of my times there in Breckinridge Park is sparked by emotions when I see a creek and forest. Excitement bubbles and explodes, itching me to explore this strange new world. The sudden rush that comes from anticipation and the sadness of not being able to continue on because the road is to treacherous.  The days spent in Brekinridge Park will never be forgotten a small stone I found and stick that reminds the mind of a gladiators short sword. Are all boats and the memories are islands they sail to. When remembered these thoughts bring emotions with them fear, pride, and hope that I might be able to continue farther the next time.