I often find myself thinking about this hill I once knew. A long field of tall, wheat colored grass ran alongside the clearing where a tree, medium in height with a thick trunk, stood without any leaves on its oddly winding branches. There is not much around this place. There are no streets with homes or man-made structures of any kind. It is secluded here, which is why I imagine this place so often. And when I imagine this place, I imagine myself there alone with you.
I picture a large white bed sheet, spread out with a picnic basket holding down one of the corners. Our shoes weigh down the other corners to keep the sheet flat to the ground. I imagine the wind is gentle but it moves enough to pick the long lengths of your soft, silky hair.
The afternoon sunlight reaches down on us to brighten your already brightened smile. I keep this vision I have of you with me. Much like the vision I have, this place is very real. This place is high up on a hill, situated away from the world on a large farm with mountains surrounding the landscape.
I lived here when I was a boy. Perhaps it would be better if I explained that I lived here when I was a boy on the threshold of becoming a man.
At the time, my search in life was very different. The world was new to me. Love was nothing more than a story. I was so unaware of so much. I was so frightened, but yet so resilient and brave.
I think about this place on the field near the tree. I think about the dirt road in the distance. I think about the farmhouse, the bunkhouse, and the tall red and white barn on the other side of the hill. I think about how clean the air was. There was no tension here.
I often think of this place near the tree with the oddly shaped branches. I think about the purity I felt here. I relate this place to the promise of a better youth. I consider the tree, the hill, and that farm as a place of redemption. I often envision myself here, alone, with you.
This place I have described is very important to me. It is where I found myself. It is where I shed my skin and began down a road, which has led me through a course of different paths that have taken me here to you.
This above anything else is the figurative root of who I am and what I have. In fact, this is all that I have. It has always been a dream of mine to stay with you under this tree beside the field of tall wheat-colored grass. I believe if we did this; then I would have shown you everything of me.
As for the farm, the place is gone now. I am not sure what it looks like or who owns it. I am not even sure if the field looks the way it did when I was there or if the tree I told you about is still standing.
I don’t know what this place looks like now. This why I keep it exactly as I remember it, right next to the place in my heart, which is where I keep you.