write about good things ok

 I just wish I could live in the mountains. Set up a tent, all snuggled up in a parka and equipped with an endless supply of marshmallows and a fire. Kev, mom and I always used to go camping together, in a yurt, or in that cabin up in Lake of the Ozarks. I loved hiking up those trails, no matter how many bugs attached themselves to me, and the fact that we never came as prepared as we should have. I think back to the green, the tall grass sways like something out of a movie, running down the trail, and the hills that stretched on for miles. Sammy used to always jump in the river, and I don’t know, it just makes me think of so many other good memories; like when Debbie and I explored the haunted Albino farm, when him and I climbed all the way up the hill to look down at the trees and I grabbed his hand in an attempt to hide my clumsiness, laughing with my gringo friends as we tripped our way up that awful waterfall. 

Thinking back, I only want to remember these things. Even though they were times where I felt so strongly, now they barely ever pop up into my mind, I want to go back and run through the forest, to feel the freedom that no one is there to stop me, to have the ability to breathe, to actually talk, to yell, and to listen to the wind, feel it (pounding) in your ears. The possibility to be alone, and to be safe. Take me back to the muddy trails, to the river, to a time where I trusted those around me, and knew that the view was worth the trip.