Into Darkness: Chapter 2, Section(s) 3

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 I grew up in a small home with 6 other people. It was the best and worst time of my life for that exact reason. Our home was not big at all but what we lacked in space to lie we were abundant in natural beauty. Qurituba was tucked into a tiny little crevice of the Amazon jungle surrounded by lush trees, far off mountains that my brothers and I would pretend to touch and the river that fell off the face of the earth.

   I can still remember all the sounds and smells and sights, it truly was the most beautiful thing I would ever experience in my life and in the next. The way the mountains looked overlooking the mysterious rainforest. It was only a few miles away but to us it might as well have been another planet. We sometimes talked about climbing those mountains, about jumping in the river and letting it take us to the very end of the world, about climbing to the very top of the trees in the forest and claiming the rest of the land for ourselves, we the discoverers of the rest of the world. Of course this was all adventure talk. None of this would ever happen but talking about it made it seem so real, so possible. The way my heart would race when we would make plans on how we would climb the mountain, on who would be the one to touch the very tip first. When we would talk like this everything in life seemed possible. It seemed like all of our worries went away when we made these silly plans because it gave us something to dream for. Deep down I think we all knew we would never even try to climb the mountain or jump into the river but we didn't have to believe we would because we had already felt like we had accomplished something already just by talking about it. 

    But what we had in our village wasn’t too bad either. Our home wasn’t too bad. It was made with the strongest tree limbs we could find and reinforced by animal dung made to stand out in the sun for days. Our homes were solid and our spirits were unbreakable because of our surroundings. In the middle of our village was a small stream that split the town into two halves. At night you could hear the stream quietly humming down to the river. Telling us that the world was in fact turning and that life was indeed real. All of this was real. We weren't dreaming. During the daytime the younger children would practice their spear work by hunting the fish that lived in the river. There we would hone our skills into those of capable hunters like the leaders of our village, hoping to one day venture into the rainforest with them as able members of society. We never lacked any resources, the stream usually over flooded with so much fish that they struggled to move and would jump out of the water for some sort of freedom from the crushing closeness of the stream. The river provided us with enough water to last for a thousand more generations. The rainforest bore enough animal for the village to hold yearlong feasts. Yes, we truly were kings and we were lucky.   

   Perhaps what I can still feel the most to this day is the way the ground felt. The way the grass would feel in between my toes as I stood on that sacred land. It was as if I were levitating when I would walk out of our home and into that beautifully mesmerizing green pasture of wild flowers and overgrown grass that felt like water that gushed through the stream. At times I would look for a deserted place in our village and lie down for hours just to feel that smooth touch on my bare back. It was like the sensation of a thousand fairies massaging your body, revitalizing every ache you had. Mentally, lying on that grass could cure any depression in an instant. There was magic in that soil and it released itself in silent streaks through the tips of the grass blades that pierced the skin like clouds. 

   The way a bird instinctively knows which way to fly in the winter, I knew which spot to find to hide in that grass. I would lumber past the muddy stretches of land behind our abode, past the small line of trees that bore our fruit, past the turn in the stream and into a small cave-like structure that I had restructured to fit my body. I would lay there and look up into the bright blue sky and watch the clouds and birds travel. It was my own little slice of heaven on earth. My father never knew where I would go. While I would sit in that little indent of land, I would dream of my next steps to finding a new home. I would make a plan, a real plan and do it, actually do it. I just needed the right moment for my feet to actually start moving away from Qurituba.I just never saw it coming. 

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