Long ago, Saturdays were lazy, quiet, and reflective days. I was home all day along with my mother and brother, while my father was out at work for most of the day. We would spend many, many hours walking and playing outside. On many occasions, probably every occasion we would troop out to our neighborhood park where I would enjoy swinging on the swingset or playing hide and seek with my brother.
On the edge of the park there was a kind of forest. It looked very very big with lots of trees and thickets of bushes, but in reality it was actually pretty small.

Many times, I had tried to venture forth into the deep, dark, depths of the forest, but I remember immediately get scared after I had lost the glare of the sunshine when I had walked in. Every Saturday we would come back to the park, and every Saturday I would try to go deeper and deeper into the forest. Unfortunately, I would start to feel immediate claustrophobia from the plants and thorns surrounding me, along with the darkness in the forest. So, I never went for than a few feet in.

As weeks went by and the seasons changed and  the years flew by, priorities began to take ahold of me. Saturdays started becoming hectic busy days. Instead of the weekly saturday walks, monthly walks started to ensue, then bi-monthly, and yearly, and finally, never.

One of the last memories I have from this longtime Saturday tradition was when I had been much older. On this particular day I valiantly charged into the forest. Once I had passed the initial bit of brush, bushes and other obstacles it was clear ahead. The ground was littered with leaves of various hues of brown, red and yellow, for it had been autumn. Up ahead of me was a very small stream, with a log across it, acting as a sort of bridge. I easily got onto the log and crossed the stream. I kept walking further and further through the trees, deeper and deeper into the forest. Suddenly, the trees abruptly stopped, and the sunshine came out as I had reached an open field. Lacking any desire or interest to continue, I walked back through the forest and back out into the park where my mom and brother were waiting for me.

That is one of the most memorable experiences I’ve ever had. And why is it so significant? I dont know. Perhaps, it represents how life changes as you get older, or maybe it demonstrates how people lose the sense of youth that they once had. I don’t know, but what I do know it that I miss it. I miss the hours I would spend outside on those quiet saturday afternoons. Right now, looking back on it, I remember being actually bored with the constant weekly relaxation day, but now I would do anything to come back to it because, it was a better time.