My lungs feel as if they're lemons being squeezed. Breathe, breathe, breathe. The hill is steep, but we are almost at the top. My hand wraps around a thin tree and I propel myself forward. I can feel the pebbles of the path getting stuck into the bottom of my sneakers. Sweat is dripping down my back from the heat and extensive climb. I look up and see the setting sun peeking through the branches and leaves of the forest.
As I get to the top of the hill, the landscape clears. I search for the one clearing that I know like the back of my hand and find the ginormous boulder wedged into the side of the mountain. I step onto it and sit. The Delaware River stretches out in front of me like a snake. The sun reflects onto the water like an oil painting. Red, orange, yellow, blue, blending to create a scene that feels unreal to me. To me, home is not the little ranch house on Brook Road. Home is right here.
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