I sat alone on that ancient tree, long ago felled by some unseen hand. There, lying beside the wheel tracks of a once upon a time road, now grass grown between the furrows. A road that is nearly invisible. And here I rest upon this wooden skeleton.
The smells of pine needles and moss, of decaying leaves and the very earth itself fill my mind and transport me to days of long ago. I can feel the weak autumn sun on my face, just like I did back then. In the background, I hear the sound of leaves rustling and the brook gurgling, and the not so faint roar of water over the old abandon dam. Above this water roar there is another sound. There is a youthful sound.
At once the sound is memory and then it morphs into reality. The sound…
The sound of bike chain on bent metal guard. I hear the voices of youth calling in that same tone, in that same desperate tone.
“Hey you guys. Wait for me!”
As I look up the road from which I had just traveled, I see the first glint of sun on spoke wheel. With feet held high off the pedals the young boy masterfully avoiding the deep puddles and the muddy ruts. My revelry is broken, as one after another, they descend on my solitude.
I pack up my things and leave this place.
I leave them to build their own memories. I leave them to live their lives and mold their own dreams, and someday perhaps to see and smell their long ago memories.