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Spring-Summer Write Off Third Place

Olivia Lopez


I walk through the garden. The smell of wet soil and dandelions is irresistible. I close my eyes hoping the cool spring breeze will take me with it. With the leaves. The loose petals bring seeds all around this beautiful place. My Dreamland. My breath of fresh air. My forever. I fell in love with the colors, with the wind in my hair, the butterflies, green, blue, orange, every color I could dream up. This is where I belong; it’s meant to be. It feels amazing, warm, welcoming, real. With each step on this stone path, I walk closer to the memory.

My favorite memory. Lying on the grass, not a danger or worry in sight. Just me in my place forever. Then I feel a drop on my head, a perfect drop of rain falls from the baby blue sky, hitting my hair. Again, and again, and again, and again. I open my eyes and my ceiling is dripping from the pipes. The sun peaks through my curtains. Maybe today I can go to the garden and maybe tonight I can visit my Dreamland.

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