by Weslee Kate
When I was a child, I used to love playing outside hunting for bugs and flowers. I used to run from one patch of shade to another pretending they were islands in the sea of summer. My bare feet would slap against the dirt without a care in the world, as little fingers would wrap around a glass of lemonade that always magically was there right when the world got hottest (thanks, mom).
I would sit in the trees outside and laugh with the fairies, telling them all my seemingly small secrets. There was not a rock unturned or a patch of earth unloved when it came to my backyard wonderland. I would jump into the pool just to save a June bug, and end up floating on my back staring at the stars as they started to pop up in the sky one by one. I would create my own constellations, and let my imagination reign as I told their tales to the birds. Even still as I creep further and further away from those days, I still find myself chasing butterflies with tangled hair and freshly pink cheeks.
That sliver of myself that still believes in the wonder of a simple patch of earth, I hope and pray she never runs away.
Model: Katarina Richterova @katarinarichterova