Becoming Nature

I grew up in the woods, running alongside deer,

building forts with the squirrels, and watching the coyotes.

I spent three years climbing trees, washing my hands in the creek, 

and reading books, cradled in the gentle arms of an apple tree. 

I spent most of my mornings packing a lunch 

so I could eat in the woods, stretched out on a boulder.

The forest was my second home, and it was 

also my library, kitchen, and bedroom. I thought that every animal

in it was my friend, and that we would spend the years together, watching each other grow. 

I grew up near the ocean, searching for sea glass, 

running through the sand, and standing in the calm waves,

letting the sea foam wash over my feet.

I spent afternoons floating on a log, or

making up stories about seafaring pirates, and 

building sand castles, topped with slick seaweed. 

The beach became my outdoor playroom.

The waves were my lullaby, the fish my friends.

The seagulls were my family, my protectors.

As I spent my years rolling in the sand, and launching sticks into the waves, 

I felt as if I waited long enough, the sea would feel my presence, 

just like the crabs, the ducks, and the fish did.