While I would have loved to also have a river or creek running through our property like in Terabithia, I wasn't that lucky. We did live across from a beautiful lake, though. The kind that the mist of the morning would float on top of it and it seemed that the mountains encircled it. The sorrowful cry of the loon bouncing off the water, mountains and lush forest; piercing me deep within. Water so clear you could see the rocks and fish beneath you as you swam. The floor littered with mulch from a mill that exploded many years before. Coves that were perfect for pickerel and bass. Enough wind to sail a catamaran on, yet so calm, placid. The only waves produced by the wake of a motor from a boat as the laughter of its occupants rippled in with the curling water. Pure, unadulterated magic.
Your only bound was at the end of your imagination. And mine seemed endless. As did the possibilities. Sometimes, all I wanted was to hike and explore the woods, the trees, the moss where the fairies lived. Other times, I just wanted to run up the hiking trail, across the stone wall or deep into the forest like the boy in Where the Wild Things Are. I was a wild thing. Perfectly at ease in my backyard where the possibilities were endless. Most of my best memories of childhood happened here. My Terabithia....boundless adventures, infinite discoveries, timeless treasures.