Journaling

I journaled this at Break Up Group today. I feel like I should mention that my grandparents' backyard was a steep, hillside in a forest. There were 99 steps down to the very center of the tiny valley. You would never have found the steps if you had not known they were there; they were covered in moss and too steep for my grandmother to make it down. At the bottom of the steps, you were totally cut off from the world. Looking up, you would not even know there was human life for miles around, except for the small bench just to the left of the stairs. The bench was built as a place to sit and enjoy the area where the small stream pooled up. The stream was the center point of the valley. The water just barely trickled through the stream and was probably only 2 or 3 inches deep and 3 or 4 feet wide, if that. Fallen trees lined the sides, as well as seasons of dead of foliage. I loved to sit and watch the water, while other times I would walk down the stream to until the branches became to thick for me to go any further. It was safe and quiet. I don't remember going down with other people often.

I wish I could go out to the trails at school by the barn and play in the stream naked. I could go at night when no one was around, but I wouldn't feel safe, I would want a man to come with me. I wish I was married so I could have a man come with me and feel secure and right about being naked around him.