Some Places Come With Their Own Knowledge

I have a secret. One I have kept since I was six.

It started out as any normal day for a six year old. I left in the morning to go exploring around my house. I walked to the great wall that lined our community. I saw two giant rocks resting next to each other. I noticed a small hole and climbed through. I had stumbled upon a secret.

I was in awe. My eyes and mouth both opened wide. It was a lust garden, with trees, a beautiful pond and lots of wild flowers. I love wild flowers. In the center of the garden was a stone gazebo. I climbed into the gazebo. I rested a bit trying to take in all the magic that danced around me.

Some places come with their own knowledge. A knowledge that I could tell no one, the garden spoke to me. I needed to preserve it. And in order to do that no one could know. I knew this place would be fabulous. I just didn’t realize how it would come to be a refuge for the ups and downs of life.

In childhood I looked for adventure in my secret garden. This was the place where make believe came to life. I cherished my time in the garden. I was safe here. No one ever disturbed me here. There was no fighting in the garden only peace.

When I arrived at the garden it appeared in any form I wanted. The garden changed with my thoughts. If I wanted to ice skate the pond froze over and winter appeared, yet I never got cold.

In middle school my garden became an escape. Here in the garden I could shut the world out, kids didn’t pick on me here. I was smart and beautiful in the garden. I could perform tasks that the garden appreciated and loved.

In high school I came to the garden to reset, a place where I could read, ice skate and swim. The pressure of life was released. The song on the birds was sweet music. I came to realize how much I enjoyed the simple things in life. I needed to let everything else go.

As I grew I visited the garden less and less. Now I am an adult. I haven’t been to my garden in years. I still envision the garden in my mind. I know it is still there. I wonder if another child has stumbled upon the garden. At times I need the safety, peace and refugee of my garden. I have to go there in my mind. The garden is too far away. I want to thank the garden for getting me through many difficult years and for filling my childhood with joy.

Written by: Collette Cottingham; Boot Hill