Under the Canopy

There is only one thing I have ever wanted: to step beneath a canopy of trees, sunlight spilling through the leaves in broken rays of gold, the air thick with the song of birds and the whisper of the wind. To stand there, still, as the world moves gently around me and to feel, for once, like nothing exists beyond this moment.

I do not want to think.

I do not want to remember the weight of my own name, the expectations weighing on my shoulders like a heavy coat, the thousand small failures I carry like stones in my pockets. I do not want to run through the maze of my mind, retracing steps I should have taken differently, rewriting words I should have said better. I want to be. Simply, wholly, as effortlessly as the trees around me.

I’d walk.

The earth would be soft beneath my feet, covered in shifting light. The wind would tug at my sleeves, brush against my cheek like a quiet reassurance. I’d breathe in, and the air would smell of something green and alive, something untouched by the constant hum of the world beyond this place.

A bird would sing, clear and sweet, and for a moment, there would be nothing else. My thoughts would quiet, then fade, until there was nothing, truly nothing. No worries, no echoes, just peace. I’d lift my face to the sky, eyes shutting close as warmth spilt over my skin.

That would be it.

I know it’s not a victory, not an achievement, not a moment that would be remembered or recorded. It’s just that. The sun on my eyelids. The wind through my hair. The hush of leaves overhead.

For the first time in forever, I wouldn’t be reaching for something beyond me. I wouldn’t be running, wouldn’t be longing, wouldn’t be lost in the tangle of what-ifs and what-could-have-beens.

I would just exist under that canopy of trees.

And it would be enough.

Written: 2025