anonymous
2010-10-11 08:39:52 UTC
Walking down the lane way, the fresh scent of pine and moisture fills my nostrils. A few meters in front of me stands the familiar green and white cabin I spent my childhood summers in since I was five. I sighed with relaxation as the afternoon sunbeams down on the sparkling, crystal clear lake. The birds chirped as if they are welcoming me back. I can never get enough of the campfire smell that never seems to diminish.
The gravel under my feet crunches as I walk towards the cabin; my feet are not very forgiving as the larger rocks dig into my souls. Excitement rips through my body as I subconsciously predict how fun the summer will play out, and suddenly all the worries that engulfed me since leaving this fine cabin a year ago, flees from my conscience. This, this is my second home.