"I have to go through the passageway," said the blue-haired little girl. She and I were in the community garden under the weeping willow tree. In her sparkly Converse, she hopped around me and crouched through an opening in the bushes. We didn't acknowledge each other because we were strangers and because she was in her world, and I was in mine.
I was lucky to have two weeping willows in my backyard when I was that girl's age. Wide-eyed and solitary, I spent hours underneath their canopies. I was a fairy in my kingdom surrounded by silvery vines.
Behind the trees, a small rocky stream protected the edge of the backyard kingdom like a mote. Water only rushed when it rained hard, but there were always pools of iridescent rainbow water.
A large concrete pipe formed the mouth of the stream. Looking into its darkness, you could see a hovering circular light. The bright circle was the headlight of a train that got stuck inside the pipe about a hundred years ago. All my friends listened to me tell the tale of the train that lingers inside there.
We all want a friend with a boat now, but everybody wanted one with a trampoline back then. And I had one, so everyone wanted to play in my backyard with me. I didn't allow anyone underneath the trampoline. If a ball rolled under, it was gone forever. If you tried to retrieve it you’d also being gone forever. My older brother warned me: "Anything or anyone that goes underneath the trampoline disappears, never to be seen again."
Then there were rectangular stepping stones surrounded by a little hedge, an unkept minitiare French garden. If you leaped across the stepping stones in a particular pattern, the ground underneath would open to the secret passageway.
By the time I was ten, lightning struck both my willows. Their trunks split instantly, and they fell.
Scientists ruined the stream’s mystique, blaming rainbow surface water on "iron-oxidizing bacteria."
It turns out the stream was manmade. It was part of a sewer, making the train pipe a drainage pipe.
The sewer also explains the waves of stink my backyard playdates complained about, but I pretended not to smell.
Until someone explains what purpose a light within a drainage pipe serves, a train is undoubtedly stuck there.
We sold our trampoline to our next-door neighbors. When we moved it, the soccer balls sat there sad, deflated, and dirty. Older brothers lie sometimes for no reason.
And I never gave up, but I never figured out the proper pattern to open the garden passageway. Roly-poly colonies may have been the only realms hidden underneath the stones.
My family moved out of the magical house years ago. I live far from them in a city I always dreamed of living in.
I know many truths now. I’ve drawn back the curtains on my fantasies and seen things I didn’t want to see, things I thought would change me for the worse.
No matter how much I’ve learned, I’ll never be as close to the Universe or God or understanding it all as I was as a kid. But I’m not so jaded.
To remind myself of the worlds inside me, I escape to the alphabet city willow tree.
I’m still “Baby Ally” (my nickname until i was like 9).
I still collect sea shells, pick flowers where I shouldn’t, say goodbye to places when I leave them, and see bunnies in the clouds. Cherry Garcia is still my favorite ice cream. On a hard day I need to wear a favorite outfit. Going shopping is the easiest way to raise my spirits. I hug the same stuffed animals while I sleep. I still write diary entries daily that begin with, “Dear Journal.” I tell Journal even the most mundane parts of my day. People still tell me I have the same big dark eyes as my mom and my animals are my best friends. I need lots of alone time to recharge. I’m still in awe of the world.
i adore you
I still pet the stray cats, make tents out of blankets, collect coins, and talk to animals like they understand me. And yes, I'm still at awe in life. This is so beautiful, thanks for sharing :)