Safe Haven

Camilla Pereira
Aug 31, 2018 · 4 min read

Fragile Beauty

I grew up loving nature and all of its unspoken beauties. I loved the way the trees would whisper in my ears and the sweet-scented grass, tickling my feet. Each new day would be a different eye-opening experience with excitement always running through my mind as I thought of the next adventure. I remember when I was 9, I would always be drawn to the outdoors as if there was an invisible force pulling me into a separate world of innocence and beauty. Flowers, the color of a warm sunset, would always greet me as I would walk through the meadows. Listening to the soft chirps of birds in the trees, I remember gently picking the delicate stem of a flower and admiring the sweet as honey scent emitting from the field surrounding me. I palmed the flower in the small of my hand and had brought it home only to realize it was crushed and wilted. The flower had made me realize that the most beautiful things are sometimes the most fragile. It was my first wake from the momentarily bliss of trying to conserve the beauty for a selfish reason. I realized if I never had picked that flower, the beauty would have survived for other people to witness. This meadow was my safe-haven from any worry that ever happened to surface in the endless chaos of my thoughts.


Mesmerizing Boundaries

I am 15 now and my new safe-haven is the beach. As I think about the baby blue sky and the sun soaking into my skin, I feel the warm feeling of contentment spread through my heart. I think about the last time I was at the beach with the wind blowing my hair in my face. The crashing waves silently beckoned me from a few feet away, almost inviting me closer. I had gingerly touched my toes in the cool water and after a few seconds decided to give into my temptation. I dived in and salt water had immediately flooded into my mouth. The first thing I noticed was the scent of the seaweed which was just as comforting as the scents of marshmallows roasting over a sweltering campfire. I couldn’t help being mesmerized by the sun reflecting off of the glistening water, radiating water droplets in all directions. I waved my arm slowly through the surface and a ripple multiplied into smaller waves one after another. As the sun had dipped behind the sand dunes, I reluctantly dragged myself out and onto the bank. I would always miss the warm sand and the chilling darkness of the ocean. The ocean gave me freedom and when I was in the waves, there were no boundaries.


Comfort city

As a teenager I had always yearned to travel to countries around the world. I wished to see the clear, starry skies of France and the palm trees and coconuts in Brazil. I am 75 now and the brightness of the stars in France were almost blinding. I’ve traveled to so many fascinating places and my heart seems fuller and more contempt with all the history that was embedded in my brain. The coconuts and mangos in Brazil were as sweet as a meadow of sweet-smelling flowers. One day I looked up and there was The Statue of Liberty. I was visiting New York and the richness of the city took me by surprise. The sunsets were as vibrant as a neon lights. Every morning the fresh air brought me to be alert and wide awake. My cup of black tea would be cooling on the counter as I walked over to it. The floral aroma mixed with honey brought back memories of the innocent meadow. My safe-haven, at age 75, is exploring all the beauty I can find across the world. I find comfort in knowing other people can see the stunning thing about nature and beautful architectural buildings from their own lenses.

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