I miss that place where I used to be: my childhood land with the lilac tree. I miss that grass, and those golden fields; the times we used twigs for our makeshift shields. I miss that pond, with the brand-new deck, where we used a canoe to make our trek. I miss that barn, with the musty stalls, which I never minded, never minded at all. I miss the house on the big, tall hill with the dark green shutters above the windowsills. I miss our swings and the mulberry tree that stained our hands and feet and knees. I miss the horses and their comforting smell with sparkling eyes that held my secrets well. I miss the path running through the woods where I skipped and laughed as lively as I could. I miss my grandfather and his good ol' dogs and doing chores and catching frogs. I miss my grandmother and her sweet smile as I sat in her kitchen as she did dishes awhile. I miss those strays, the cats we had, whose kittens we'd catch and get scratched real bad. I miss those days as we lay in the sun soaking up all the rays and just having our fun. I miss those cats, and their colorful fur, especially Buttercup: my favorite, her. I miss dear Grandma and her warm hugs and her talent and her laugh and her homemade rugs. I miss ol' Gramps and his mischevious ways and his talkin' fast and us balin' the hay. I miss that path that meandered in the trees where the branches creaked and whispered in the breeze. I miss the horses, and the bridle leather, and feeding them oats in all sorts of weather. I miss the swing, all knotted and worn, and the climbing tree where our clothes were torn. I miss that hill, with our little house, that held just us and sometimes a mouse. I miss that barn with the stalls and hayloft where the sparrows gathered and the hay was soft. I miss the pond where my favorite horse died and I sat next to the water and I remember I cried. I miss the grass that grew thin and tall and hid all the bugs and stole our baseballs. I miss that place from my childhood, but I'd never forget it. I don't think I could.