Nonfiction

There's something special about winter in New England
There's the way that the emissions from the smoke stacks blend into the bright, white clouds

If I could live the same day over and over, I'd relive the day that She took me to the forest. I arrived at her house, and in trying to avoid being asked awkward questions by her mum, we were out of the door almost instantly.

Her gaze lingered, just a second too long, and suddenly the lighting changed. I reflected back down onto the fabric I'd covered myself in, now horrified as I looked quickly away in dismay.

I’m 4 years old. My best friend and I are walking along the wood line at his house. We’re talking. Just talking. We walk a few steps into the woods. Only as far as his mom allows us to go on our own. There’s a cave.

There's a tree in my garden. Well, there's more than one, but this is the tree iv'e grown up around. My mum's contorted hazel.

An utter mess, so undeniably hectic that if it was my room I have no doubt I would be kicked straight out of my house. As I left school that afternoon that's how I would have described my life.

   It was a beautiful snowy cool day, so my friends and I decided to go to the mountain to ski. We went on the small hill a lot so we wanted to switch to the top. We went on the ski lift that takes you up higher, and higher.

If I had to live one moment I would go to the beach, the ocean a lot of the time looks so clear. I love going swimming, being in the sand and making big sand castles.

There’s a saying “if the universe didn’t need you, you wouldn’t be here” it's almost laughable because the universe doesn’t need arsonists or thiefs, and the universe certainly didn’t need Richard Ramiriez or Ted Bundy but it got them didn’t it?

Picture yourself in a subway station, great. Now, picture the people, the noise, the roar of the 2:30 departure. Now picture that you are alone, that there are no people, no noise, no roar of the 2:30 departure because there isn’t one.

I look around, admiring the gorgeous flowers and fresh mulch, if you blink you might miss it; if you’re rushing you might not even notice. It’s an ode to calming down and taking a moment, giving a chance to reflect.