Posted: Wednesday, June 20, 2012 8:45:07 PM
Frolicking in the open fields like an overgrown marshmallow, I feel the wind tickling my cheek with the persistence of a scurrying ant rushing to transport that fallen leaf.
At the tender age of 5, I nervously embarked on my first encounter with nature, oh that lovely creature! All my life, I had been stuck in a hospital room, waiting for my heart to recover from a serious heart condition. It was a cold, dark, and miserable place, and I was despondent at the thought of residing in that dungeon of doom. I had not the slightest clue of what existed outside of those doors, and thus imagine the exasperation and glow that filled my eyes when I first walked outside that building!
I was in a completely new world. Exposed to the vibrant outdoor colors, the newly discovered creatures, the breathtaking view of the natural landscape, the rippling sounds of waving trees, the peculiarly attractive aroma of newborn roses, it was too much for me to take in at once. For the first time, I felt at home. The hospital, for the 5 years I was there, never once made me feel that way.
From that memorable day on, I was pulled in and hooked by nature’s comforting grasps. Every weekend, I would spend countless hours at the local park with my father and brother playing soccer, and in the meantime, roll around in the lush grass, pluck vines off of bushes, hear the hungry buzzing of mosquitoes, and feel the mushy texture of semi-wet dirt. However, I was never tired of going to the park because every time, there would be a new adventure awaiting me, a never-before experienced adventure. Nature is always full of surprises.
Over the years, I slowly stopped going to the park with my dad and brother. Between those huge school projects, piano training, and hanging out with friends, going to the park ceased to be my number one priority. Growing up and maturing, it felt silly and socially unacceptable to be aimlessly meandering at the park with my father and brother. After 8 long years of struggling, I finally ended my relationship with the park, and with nature. I was completely cut off. Not until now do I finally see the flaw of my decision.
The more I think about the times I was having fun at the park, the more I realize that change is inevitable, it really is. I see that change can be for the better, and for the worse. And when it’s for the worse, there is only one thing to do. Go to the park. Bathed in nostalgia, I can’t help but shed a few tears thinking about the past, how it was so easy and carefree just laying down on the grass and whistling a few tunes with the accompanying humming birds.
My summer’s resolution is simple. To relive my past. To once again, tie myself back to nature. And to embrace it all with open arms.