Marissa Scott
Ms. Leclaire Honors American Literature 1/10/09

The Playhouse

I’m sitting under the leafless tree as the cool winter breeze blows. I can feel the rough ends of my hair whip across my face. Every hair on my body stands on end as the wind overwhelms my senses. I watch my breath sprinkle the dry air, as it is the only sign of warmth as far as the eye can see. tree.jpgThe clouds are low and wispy in the skies above, blocking out the direct rays of the sun which once warmed my fair skin. The dormant plants and lifeless grass crunch beneath me as if begging me for moisture and longer days to return.

The playhouse was an escape, a place for my mind to explore the many make believe and secret worlds of my childhood. The large oak tree once towered over the playhouse protecting the innocent children who played there. It’s invitinplayset.jpgg vibrant green leaves and age old trunk gave me a serene inner peace, just knowing it would never let anything do me harm. The summer months warmly invited the neighborhood children to join in on the playful green soft grass beneath the playhouse as it tingled the feet of so many. Swarms of butterflies fluttering around our heads splashed the sky with a rainbow of color. You could see the smiles on our faces as we attempted to catch one of these creatures and be in possession of such a mystical being.

My heart leapt out of my chest with excitement at the site of the stray cat that was as pure white as the billowy clouds that hovered above my head as I was comforted by the mere touch of his soft fur. The cat and I would clouds.jpgspend hours playing together just as if the day would never end. I recall so many magical times that the old playhouse used to bring to me as if all the cares and worries of the outside world vanished as quickly as the light of the day. The small children created so many extraordinary worlds out of the plain, old rickety playhouse underneath their feet. It became a getaway. A place that could transform into anything and everything. The only place I could call my own.

The wind whistled as it blew open the shutters of the unsuspecting houses nearby. The calm heavenly realm of yesterday was brought to an end as I was unwillingly yanked backed to the present where cold uninviting air and muddy snow banks replaced the cheery bright surroundings that once were.

All images taken from Google Images: ****