Sitting on the side of the creek, I could feel the world moving around me. I could hear each leaf stirring in the breeze, scratching as it rubbed against it’s neighbor. I could hear the rush of the water over the mossy rocks near the top. I could feel the tiny brushes of wind, like the whisper of a friend.

This was my secret place, and in it I was free, able to be anything I dreamt.Able to see all the things I imagined; princesses, faeries, godesses.All the things I wrote about in my stories.

These may sound like the silly fantasies of a child,but when it existed,this safe place allowed my imagination to come alive and breathe again,the way it did for all of us when we were young.There I could believe that if I stepped just beyond a hill I might find a different world,a more perfect world. It was beautiful.

It was perfect.While it lasted. But now I find that that place, that feeling I had, is gone. It slips away, around the corner, to peek at me elusively. And I will never find my never land again.