Safe Harbor

| 20 |

The next day, I wake earlier than the other lads did, unable to sleep. It seemed no matter how much I tossed and turned, my eyes refused to stay shut. I was tired-- I had helped the others with the tree houses until midday, before tending the crops until suppertime, like I did every Wednesday. It was one of the rare days I wasn't with Jack-- the physical labor of the day had left me exhausted. 

But this was one of those nights where my mind refused to turn off. I had these from time to time, seemingly, for no reason. There was nothing to do about it; it just was, and I had accepted it a long time ago. There was nothing to do but think.

Walking usually helped. Cautiously, I eye the sleeping forms of my friends, sprawled out all around me, and I carefully stand, being sure not to nudge them or wake them, as I leave the hut, feeling a cool breeze suddenly envelope me. 

The forest at night is much more ominous than in day. For a moment, I can't see anything but black; a hazy image; unclear, indiscernible. Then I blink, and thin black lines enter my field of vision, outlining various shapes, like shadows. The foliage is so thick out here that it blocks the moon's rays, but I remain unperturbed. The darkness wraps around me like a protective blanket; I've always been content to remain invisible, hidden in the shadows. 

And so I walk, paying little attention to where I'm going, lost in empty thoughts. I feel rough soil under my worn-out loafers, the occasional pebble or two embedding themselves into them, as well. The air is crisp and cool; refreshing as I breathe deeply in and out, enjoying the sensation. 

I continue along my path to nowhere in particular, watching my surroundings come to life around me. Small animals scurry and dart around somewhere in front of me, and the leaves of the trees rustle with the oncoming faint breeze. Crickets sound off with their infamous tune just about everywhere, a noise I've grown to become accustomed to. 

I let my feet guide me along, content to wander along aimlessly, lost in my thoughts. I pass along the tree houses; one of which is actually complete. When I see it, I can't help but grudgingly smile-- after all the hard work the lads and I had put in, we had actually succeeded. It was nothing fancy, by no means-- a crude four-walled structure with a roof and an opening for a door and two windows was all it was, but to me, it was nothing short of magnificence. My own two hands had helped to create that, and I couldn't have been prouder. A loud snore suddenly pierces the silence of the night-- undoubtedly, Henri, Damien, and Jack, up in the tree house. They had been sleeping there for the last two days, to make sure it was completely safe and habitable to stay in for the rest of us. 

I move along, passing over streams and under trees, enjoying the quietness. I pass over roots and under trees, and something inside stirs within me, a kind of admiration and wonder flowing deep in my veins. 

Nothing I'd ever known could have prepared me for this place. I'd lived a city to city life, the farthest into the country being rural stretches of land between them. I'd grown up in a busybody, fast-paced environment where everyone seemed too busy doing whatever they were doing to appreciate life in the moment. 

But here, that's all there was to do. Free from the pressures of responsibility, free from the urgency of needing to be somewhere or needing to do something, all there was was life, in it's naked form. Life, in its simplest and most natural state. 

Life, how it should be.

I breathe in once more, and a smile flits onto my face. I don't think I've ever felt so at peace, especially with the constant war raging on in both the world and my head.

And there it is-- the thought that always manages to bring me back down to reality, that bursts the bubble of paradise I enjoy for too little. The fact that miles and miles away, a war rages on in the very place I call home.