Safe
Copyright 2021 by Heather Rose Brown
While I managed to keep myself relatively safe most of the time when I was growing up, there were only a few places and times when I felt completely safe. Below is a tiny vignette about one of them.
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When the recess bell rang, I walked across the lunch room as fast as I could without getting yelled at by a teacher. Once I reached the door, I shoved it open, then sprinted down the sidewalk by the school. When I reached the sports field, I raced across the dusty packed earth and dry patches of grass.
I glanced over my shoulder when I was near the far end of the field, then smiled when I saw nobody was in sight. A moment later, the chain link fence was jangling as I climbed it. When I reached the top, I grabbed the huge branch hanging over the fence, pulled myself up, then shimmied towards a rough wooden platform.
Panting as quietly as I could manage, I laid down on the platform, and looked up at the patches of bright blue sky peaking through the deep green leaves. A light breeze ruffled my hair, and cooled my sweaty t-shirt. Even though I didn't dare to say it out loud, I thought the most special word of all.
Safe.
It wasn't something I felt a lot of the time. At school, I was relatively safe ... at least when there was a teacher nearby. At home, I was mostly safe, so long as I didn't break any rules, and managed to avoid discovering new rules I wasn't allowed to break.
But here, up in the tree, hidden from view by both teachers and other kids, I felt safe. Even though I knew it wouldn't last, I grinned up at the tree, patted the rough bark of one of its branches, and thanked it for giving me a special place, where I could really, truly, feel safe.