As a kid our imaginations let us slip into places so far away, that it’s odd that we’d even dream to go there. Parts of the earth farther than a train ride away. However, when we conduct our brains a certain way, the possibilities of where we can go seem endless.
I was walking home from work on one of those misty mornings. The kind where the rain just passed, and you’re left in a daze. The green in the trees no longer resembled typical Connecticut trees, full of that Tri-State area vibrancy. The kind the movies make a point to capture every time they want to show how grand New England can be for nature watchers.
I could have been in a rain forest for all anyone knew. As long as I ignored the concrete I was walking on. As long as I kept looking up, and of course around in case a car came through from the main street, I was 7 again, dreaming I was somewhere else.
I’ve never been to anything close to a rain forest, unless you count that first indoor area at the Central Park Zoo. The one that’s hot with all the birds and other creatures. By the end you’re drenched in sweat, and you just want to go to the other indoor area that’s cool inside, and then you get to look through the glass and see where the penguins live.
At 27 I still only know as much as the internet can tell me about an actual rain forest, so it seems strange my imagination let me pretend I was in one. I’m not complaining though. I didn’t need to go there for real, I just needed to escape for a moment.