Falling

As far back as I can remember I've always lived in the same house, with nearly the same neighbors. There was one house catty-corner from mine where people moved in and out all the time. I never got close to the people that moved in. Behind my house there was a small area of woods with a hole in the middle and a trail with small dirt hills. Kids would ride their bikes and do tricks back there. Everyone always had fun.

When I was in middle school the hole was filled in, many of the trees cut down, and a house built in its place. I felt odd. It was like I lost something. I didn't know how to feel about the change, but it didn't effect me much since it was behind my house. I just went on with life after that.

There was another section of woods across directly across the street from my house. It was also there for what was forever to me. Instead of a hole and dirt hills there was foundation from a house that use to stand in those woods. It had burned down some years before and kids liked to scare each other with ghost stories of the place. I never believed them. I would watch the woods all year too and I never saw any ghosts there.

All year around it was also the first thing I would see when I left my house. In the winter I would be amazed at how the snow made the trees droop and how icicles would attach themselves to the branches. When the spring came I would watch cardinals and blue jays and other birds I don't know the names for, fly in and out of the woods. I would see wild cats that I would sometimes tame, prowl the woods too. Squirrels would run off the trees onto the telephone wires. By the time summer came the tiger lilies on the woods edge and the trumpet flower vines that wrapped themselves around the brush and the trees would be in full bloom. Then, fall would come change the leaves colors and the wind would carry the brittle, dead leaves away. Every day when I walked home from my bus stop I would look up and only see part of the sky, since the trees covered most of the view. I could see the seasons change this way most of all. I watched these woods so closely without realizing it.

I never thought those woods would change. But they did.

In eleventh grade some men with chainsaws, some machinery, trucks, and dumpsters came. I glared at them through the window. How dare they ruin my woods? It then occurred to me that I had been kidding myself. I didn't own that plot of land, and I had no right to be upset. It belonged to someone else. Someone who wanted to build a house. I couldn't do a thing about it either. But still with every roar of the chainsaw and fall of a tree, I grew sick to my stomach. I cried to myself I got so depressed. I even vowed to hate the people who would move into that house, even if they were just renters and not the people who ordered the house to be built. It was childish, but I didn't care. I wouldn't care even if they were the nicest people in the world. It was childish, but it was the way I felt.

Each day I see them remove some of the debris from what use to be the woods. Each day I wonder why they couldn't have left even one tree. They didn't though. Every day when I walked home from my bus stop I look up and see half the sky covered, with the other half open. I always have a strange feeling when I see the open sky in that spot. I feel like I'm going to fall into the sky. It's hard to explain. I feel detached from the would and I feel like my heart gained so much weight. I also feel so off balanced I don't know what to do with myself.

So now I looked down at the cracked and dirty street, thankful that it hasn't changed yet. I look down so I won't feel ungrounded.

It's all I can do to not see the empty lot. Though, I see it every morning and feel terrible. I never use to be able to see through the woods they were so thick. I can know see two blocks away because it's empty and on the other side are people's yards. I look up so I don't see to the street that should feel farther away. But I just feel like I'm going to fall into the sky again.