Remembering Blue Mountain

In the half light, the trees stand like silent white ghosts. Arms extended, reaching across the distance from one lawn to another. Inside it seems all that much brighter, sitting beneath a fluorescent light as darkness descends outside, hiding the gentle sway of the wind through barren branches.

If I could close my eyes and be anywhere else in this moment, I'd be sitting on the edge of a cold mountain lake, my feet half buried by sand and water as a lemon moon rose slowly in the sky. I'd lean back, my hands digging deep into the softness of the sand and fill my eyes with an ocean of stars, content to be alone with only the sound of the lapping water beside me and the distant crackling of a fire that waits with both my family and my friends for my return.