I can still feel the moist coolness of the damp earth on my bare feet from that summer.
I am lying on a wooden bench, my body so naturally pressing against its surface.
As I stare up into the sky, I can see the canopies of the redwoods. Their multiple branches interlocking with each other, while bits of blue sky manage to peek through.
I begin to think about you and all the other wonderful, fascinating individuals I have so quickly befriended.

Suddenly, I am completely immersed and engulfed by this deep sense of tranquility I have never quite encountered before.
It paralyzes me.
It is almost as if some supernatural force has compelled the wind to lean in and whisper, “It’s okay, I understand, you can stop grieving now.”

I would be lying if I said I haven’t sobbed for what seemed like endless hours for no apparent reason since then.
Yes, I would be lying if I said I haven’t felt terrified, hopeless, and completely destroyed since that day.

But I also know what it feels like to be fully at ease and content with life.
And I know I will feel like this again because I have and I will.
And I know one day I will be able to look back on my life and describe it in six short lovely words permanently written on my back,
“Everything was beautiful, and nothing hurt.”