Moss on rocks


3000 feet above the ground, up high in the mountains she goes, one small foot after the other. Lost in her thoughts, listening to her own beat, walking at her own pace, carefree. She is at peace, oblivious to the rest of the world, unaware of any danger.

She has found a new secret garden where moss on rocks or wet rocks can be slippery. A playground where you always stay on the trail and never wander by yourself. She knows the true occupants of this new kingdom are probably watching her, looking forward to her going back home so that they can come out of their retreat and enjoy their space.

She has seen quite a few mountains, went on different hikes, but each of them has turned out to be different and require more or less effort. As she grows, she has learned to stop and listen to the chants of nature, and let the sun rays in her heart.

And when the sun sets, when it is time to go home, she will look behind, already nostalgic of this fleeting moment when for a few hours, she got to forget about school, homework,  and any other concerns that a seven year-old might have.



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