By Camila Cruz – May 2018

My white converse began to fill up with wet clay like dirt as my feet began to sink into the damp orange, clay like dirt as I pounced onto the field of yellow, patchy grass. The creaking of the floorboards under my feet caused me to feel an almost spiritual experience as I climbed the steps of the log covered cabin. As I step in, immediately the air smells musty and the cobweb covered windows remind me of the times I’ve spent at this cabin playing pretend with my cousins and going on adventures. My cousin let out a warm laugh as she caressed the rotten plastic kitchen we used to cook pretend meals with every Christmas when we were young and innocent. We planted ourselves on the tender colored sofas that covered the floorboards and sat in a moment of relaxation and nostalgia. 

The wind whispered in my ears as I hiked up the steps to the polished marble slide that inclined upwards towards the sand covered parking lot that was filled with a swarm of multi-colored vehicles. I gracefully sat down on the silky brown rug as my cousin pushed me and I soared through the air. A laugh escaped my throat as I planted my feet on the damp dirt and wiped myself off. I stood to the side of the crumbling rock wall and watched my cousin burst through the frigid wind and land in the moist clay dirt. Both of us, quivering with excitement, we strolled towards the shining metal poles that attached to a pair of moldy ropes.

The hills, having been eroded so much by the weather, now uneven and slanted, caused my cousin and I to dig our sneakers into the soggy soil and grip our hands around the greasy ropes. Our deafening shrieks of laughter pierced the air as we flew in the grey stormy sky. The tempting aroma of fresh bread filled our noses as we raced up the steep rock path that led to the restaurant with the blood red and mustard yellow sign. Giggles of satisfaction are let out as my cousin and I taste the buttery, warm fluffly bread and the ice cold water that coats our throats. After satisfying our hunger for buttery bread and refreshing water, my cousin and I race back to our beloved cabin made out of moist, dirt covered logs. 

As we sit back down on the deflated colored sofas, the sky casts a layer of darkness over the cabin as I started rememebering that soon the fun would end and I would be back at home, ready to go back to school. I didn’t want to leave. I spent so many Christmas’s at this playground, I felt rejuventated every second I spent in that cabin, it seemed to preserve the little innocence I had left. We decided to play the game we always played at the playground. My cousin called her little brother to play with us. We clearly were too old to play pretend but we were in a sacred nostalgic place and didn’t care what the adults thought. 

My 12 year old cousin and I, and her 11 year old brother, we strolled over to the old, rusted swingset that was inplanted in the uneven soil next to the brick colored wall of plaster. We came up with the plan that we would do a World War 3 type of scenario. As we marched off to our assigned destinations, a roar crashed down onto us, it’s shrieks overflowing our ears. The sky had turned into a deep gray and rain started crashing onto us. We ran to the cabin, our safe haven, like a pair of chickens with their heads cut off. 

The cabin was a place where we always felt safe and had our innocence preserved, it was terrible knowing that I would have to leave my safe haven in 2 days.