As I trudge away from my house, the shrill exchange of screams between my parents seems to fade along with my desire to ever return home. The volume of their fight decreases slowly to a murky whisper until finally their useless argument is no longer within earshot and I can liberate myself to nature. With a newfound kick in my step, I make my way to my favorite secret spot to collect my thoughts after the exhausting day of imprisonment in my broken home.

I nestle myself into a bed of overgrown grass infused with a plethora of unkempt weeds. As my body collapses to the earth, a robust smell of soil lifts from the ground and caresses my body. Now, I am home. The blades of grass tickle my arms at first, but as my body grows immune to the sensation, the lawn transforms into a cradle for me to lose myself in for the next few hours to come.

The skyscraper-like trees around me were lush and inviting. Their stature created a secluded haven for me to escape in. As the wind blew, the branches trembled, releasing from them, delicate, pastel, cherry blossoms, landing all around my numb body. I lay for a minute, motionless, taking in every aspect of nature; from the crisp, clear scent the plants excrete, to the picturesque landscape in which I am engulfed. With a deep sigh of relief and recovery, an overwhelmingly large amount of fresh air fills my lungs and erases all traces of my dreadful morning.

My eye is immediately drawn to one shard of grass that grew above all the others. Hesitant, I pluck the outlier from the ground and begin studying it intently. My fingers trace along the veins running throughout the blade. I run my fingers along the edges, becoming aware of each peak and valley found in the rough knife-like exterior. Never could I have imagined something so delicate and petite to have such a harsh, malicious border.

I pull the grass apart, splitting it evenly down the middle. It diverges with ease, no resistance whatsoever. Each vein releasing the hand of its better half, trying to keep hold, but giving up far too easily in the end. A liquid begins to appear, oozing from the inner crest of the grass. It’s as if this tiny piece of grass had some sort of emotional connection to itself, and as I separated the two parts, they began to cry in protest. The two divided pieces crash to the ground, slowly, then all together; throwing a fit against their new fate decided by an outside force.

And with that, I grab my notebook, and I head back home; knowing in the back of my mind, that soon enough, “home” will, too, be split into two fragments. Slowly, then all together.