Home to Me

My lungs constricted as my breathing became heavy, and the brisk morning air burned my nose as it passed through my nostrils. The steady sound of my feet pounding against the earth rang loudly in my ears, filling my mind and drowning out the silence of the sleeping world. Eventually I fell into a comfortable rhythm that numbed my brain and exhilarated my quickly exhausting body. I felt the familiar tingle in my legs that tempted me to rest, but still I pressed on. I pumped my arms, the sleeve of my jacket rubbing against my body, adding to the familiar sensation of running past the town of my childhood.

Coming out of the dense forest, I spotted my destination some yards away. In its youth, I imagine that the majestic bridge would have been a sight to see, its cobblestones newly paved and pristine as they stretched across a rushing ravine that aided the growing civilization in survival. Now, though still sturdy as ever, some stones are cracked and missing, while foliage has made itself at home. Vines and wildflowers and vegetation of all kinds had grown from the rich soil left behind by the dried up river, reaching up towards the heavens as they drank the liquid gold that warmed our Earth. Greedy as they are, the shrubbery took to encasing the stone wonder–breaking through the miniscule spaces in some places–trapping it forever in its grasp only so it could indulge itself once again.

There is never any sign of human life in this area, for places such as this have been abandoned and forgotten long ago by all but myself and the indigenous creatures that were here long before even the creators of this bridge. There was most likely a time when they couldn’t venture close to this area, lest they be injured, and I imagine that they are relieved that their kind could finally return to their homes. Though they have no memories of that time, even animals, I’m sure, can feel the restoration of balance in the atmosphere of the forest that results from a lack of human life. I can certainly feel it, and the senses of animals are much more attune to the flow of nature.

I slow my pace to a stop, leaning against the edge of the bridge and staring out into world as I try to catch my breath. The sun has begun to rise, and I welcome its warmth upon my skin as the rays gently push themselves past the natural life of the wood. It is bright, nearly blinding my eyes that had become accustomed to the dark. The rising sun is a signal that a new day has begun, but in a place as magical as this, it feels much more significant. Being surrounded with life that relies heavily upon the star for survival, I am reminded of my own mortality. Though we consume and treat nature as we please, the plant life of the world is far superior. Without humans, plants would go on surviving the way they have for billions of years, but without plants humans would cease to exist; for they not only provide us with essential nutrients and healing remedies, but they also help to supply us with the very air that we breathe.

Though vegetation is superior, I don’t feel as if I am its subject. Standing here, surrounded by comfort and listening to the silent sounds of life, I feel at one with the world. Peace washes over my body and I bathe in the crisp dawn. The sun and moon are my guardians, their original children my siblings, and we are all equals in the eyes of the all-knowing universe. They are my family, and this is my true home. I belong in this instant with them, and I savor the moment with all of my being to its fullest potential.

In mere minutes, the sensation is gone and I turn to leave my home. I force my legs to push me forewords, leading me back the way I came. Though I feel for a moment that I belong in that world, I know that I would do nothing but ruin the beauty and majesty that is held in the greenery of the forest, as my ancestors did before me. For the sake of saving my home from my destruction, I always return to the place where I live. For my home, and only my home, I stay in the place where I am less than a whisper of a thought, and–though sometimes I swear I can hear it–no one ever calls my name.