Descriptive Essay
An Unmistakable Presence of Peace
Places of serenity hold captive the fondest pieces of our memory. We walk on the hard, cold stone path barefoot. The air is filled with the aroma of gardenia. The cool, crisp breeze slices through the humid atmosphere. The wind-chimes sing their songs of sharp, staccato notes. The forest seemingly forever expands over the flat land of Louisiana. The rustle of the leaves of 100 year old oak trees in the wind reminds us of the outside world we had momentarily left behind. Little kid’s feet run on the fresh cut grass, fragrant and light creating a familiar smell of summer. Cold, iced tea cools your hand through its confinement of a mason-jar. We sit on cold, stone benches that make us undeniably uncomfortable but we are unwilling to move. The sun bears down on us unforgivingly, making the day so hot it hurts. The air is slightly seasoned with the taste of dew in the early morning stinging your nostrils and forcing you to curl your toes. The garden’s appearance is just as soft and inviting as the memories invested in our hearts.
There is a hidden path that leads to the clearing, bringing back fond memories with each step taken. Her beauty and her light are still visible after years of darkness. The rough surface of the memorial stone is graced with her name, making the hard natural appearance so soft and warm. The atmosphere effortlessly calms us. Her presence is a physical and tangible as the rocks on the ground and it warms you from the inside out. The secret of the place is always safe by the few lucky enough to know and love her. “Eternally loved, never forgotten.” Love cannot die; and if love cannot die, neither can people.
Places of serenity hold captive the fondest pieces of our memory. We walk on the hard, cold stone path barefoot. The air is filled with the aroma of gardenia. The cool, crisp breeze slices through the humid atmosphere. The wind-chimes sing their songs of sharp, staccato notes. The forest seemingly forever expands over the flat land of Louisiana. The rustle of the leaves of 100 year old oak trees in the wind reminds us of the outside world we had momentarily left behind. Little kid’s feet run on the fresh cut grass, fragrant and light creating a familiar smell of summer. Cold, iced tea cools your hand through its confinement of a mason-jar. We sit on cold, stone benches that make us undeniably uncomfortable but we are unwilling to move. The sun bears down on us unforgivingly, making the day so hot it hurts. The air is slightly seasoned with the taste of dew in the early morning stinging your nostrils and forcing you to curl your toes. The garden’s appearance is just as soft and inviting as the memories invested in our hearts.
There is a hidden path that leads to the clearing, bringing back fond memories with each step taken. Her beauty and her light are still visible after years of darkness. The rough surface of the memorial stone is graced with her name, making the hard natural appearance so soft and warm. The atmosphere effortlessly calms us. Her presence is a physical and tangible as the rocks on the ground and it warms you from the inside out. The secret of the place is always safe by the few lucky enough to know and love her. “Eternally loved, never forgotten.” Love cannot die; and if love cannot die, neither can people.