Neverland is never far away

I can feel the evergreen needles prickling my skin as I take that first leap off of the ledge of my property and plunge the half-meter into the woods behind my house. The path is hidden through the trees, and only us children know how to find the secret door. The branches hardly move as I land deftly on my feet, my body’s memory of a thousand leaps guiding me forward. I stand still, willing my excitement to run further into the woods away, willing myself to stay still for a moment to enjoy my surroundings, as I always have done since discovering my secret garden.

Green hats, rust carpet, and brown bodies. The sky is hidden through the blanket of evergreen trees, so only the luckiest sunbeams are allowed through to shine onto the forest floor. Discarded pine needles, their use long gone, lay dormant. Like a blur, a red squirrel zaps by, camouflaged by the dead needles on the ground.

The tinkling of the nearby brook makes me unconsciously do the pee-pee dance while I try and listen for my friends. The squirrels twitter in the trees, and I can hear the faint whoosh as they take flight. Robins, blue jays and chickadees all sing to one another dozens of meters above me. I feel like Snow White.

Damp leaves fill my nostrils and the smell of the turpentine makes my eyes water. I know I will be covered in it before the day is out.

I’m seven years old and I don’t have a care in the world – other than finding my friends down by the creek and playing in the centuries-old forest that I call home.