I am grateful for a place. It is warm. It is comfy. It is safe. I walk through my home and find myself gravitating towards it. Is it strange that this place is my parents’ bedroom? I think it would be if I was anything like Oedipus. But since I’m not (and I am not), I think I’ll enjoy their bedroom a little longer.

It is wide. It is spacious. And it is inviting to all who enter. The large windows make the bright colors of the room shine. My spirits lift as they guide me to my place. Sometimes I’ll find clean laundry littered over the bed and dive into it, letting its warmth soak the autumn cold out of me. I’m coiling in the flowery smell of around me until I see our backyard from a screened window.

It is beautiful. It pulls me away from the loose bras and faded shirts to study it every time. It’s changed since I last saw it but not too much. The mighty oak is still standing proud in the corner showering its leaves and pollen over everything in its shade. An old swing still hangs from one of its branches. I have no fond memories of it but like the aesthetic it gives the place. My eyes shift to the splintered red and white shed painted just how Old McDonald would’ve liked. Over the years my father and I filled it with chopped wood we took from the oak’s companions. Storms toppled them and the least we could do was put the dying giants to rest. Yes, saying that was just meant to make ourselves feel better about killing them. There is no further explanation.

But even though the trees may not be grateful for this place, I am. In it, I am safe. I am warm. I am home.

It all started when I wondered what I was going to do today. Don’t get me wrong. I’m busy. All the time. And it’s frustrating. There’s always stuff I have to do but rarely any willpower (or time) to actually do them. Does that annoy anyone else? Probably. It seems to be the mood going around these days. But somehow the work always gets done so wasn’t there enough willpower and time after all? Yes, but I never felt like there was. But I also like to complain so that could also be the reason. Anyway, I wondered what I was going to do today. The choices consisted of the following: going to work in a lab (which would scrub an unpleasant frog smell into my clothes for the rest of the day), going to grab some breakfast which might be productive (if I don’t run into anyone I know there), or going to the library, which inevitably has the same dangers as going to get food. All the choices are somewhat productive but none of them are all that appealing. I wasn’t even that hungry. So, a walk. I decided to go on a walk.

You see, there were these backwoods I could see from my window every morning and I always wondered what was in them. Not in a weird or adventurous way. I just had a feeling this would be my last chance to find out. Do you ever feel like that? Like if you don’t do something now then you will have lived never having done it. Most people are afraid of that feeling but I never cared much for it. Anyway, I left the building and walked towards the backwoods. Up close, the trees seemed so much prouder than from the window. Standing tall and glistening in the sunlight. Damn trees. I’m actually a little jealous of them now.

I stepped over the small white picket fence to enter the backwoods. Did I mention that they were fenced off? Well, they were, which meant that I passed the point of no return (unless I felt like turning around and taking an extra-big step in the other direction). So, I simply made my way across the backwoods, snapping twigs and leaves as I admired the giants around me. Really, how did they get so damn tall? It seems absurd that all they did was drink water and bask in sunlight. Those lucky bastards. I was so busy admiring them that I became lost. I looked around and noticed the giants had surrounded me. Each indistinguishable from the last. Great.

I knocked on one of the trees and asked it if it knew the way back. There’s something about not knowing that really takes the fun out of a new experience. I waited for a response and laughed, “It would be weird if you actually responded. You know, since you’re a tree and all.” I patted the giant’s back and moved on. That tree was my friend now. It made me laugh and I walked away with a wiggly smile. That’s more than what some of my nonplant friends have gotten out of me, so it’s a pretty nice tree.

I walked around for a while longer now. Everything looked the same so I can only assume I was walking in a circle. Yeah, that must have been it because I came across my friend again. How did I know it was the same tree? Because we were friends, of course so don’t ask any more stupid questions. This time when I asked the tree for help, the wind picked up and I had to close my eyes to keep crushed leaves from flying into them. I’m not superstitious or anything but my heart told me to follow the wind. My brain didn’t have any better ideas so I followed the wind and lo and behold, I made it to the white picket fence. I think it was the same spot I entered from because there were some broken twigs but shouldn’t the wind have blown them away?

As I took that extra-big step over the white fence, I turned and called out to my giant friend, “Thanks… Albert! That’s what I’m gonna call you. Unless you don’t like it. Let me know if that’s the case.” He must not have liked it because my shoelace got caught on the fence and I fell face-first into the ground. “Ugh, okay if you’re so opinionated, what would you like to be called?” There was silence, and then a loud crash. “Ah, so Benjamin?” Again, I was wrong.