by Victoria Cross

Created on: August 03, 2008

When I was an innocent young child at the age of six, my mother, brother and I use to go up north. We were fortunate enough to spend our summer months at my uncle`s cottage. The adventurous child that I was embraced all the opportunities that were offered of enlightenment and exploration. The outdoor surroundings gave me such wonderment to explore with crevasses and mountainous rocks to climb, long and dusty, dirt back roads to walk. The winding road surrounded by both sides with lush, green foliage of trees, shades of many wild flowers, blades of green and yellowish grass and a million fresh black, red and blue berries to pick and eat along the way. If someone were to follow the road they would at some point experience in behind the trees the picturesque body of water that lay calm, sparkling almost like a mirrored reflection in the sunlight or moonlight. It was magical.

The most enlightening place that I would ever travel to was a place that I called Pirates Rock. My uncle gave me a small, white rowboat. I would glide through the water using the strong plastic oars along the nearby shore. This is where I discovered my hidaway, my safe haven. This rock was enormous. It took me forever to climb to reach the top, carrying all the things I would bring with me. It was very private and secluded almost like a jungle with branches and leaves from the trees protecting it. The one thing I use to bring with me at all times was my treasure box.

This tin like, golden, engraved treasure box was filled with all my life's possessions for the age of six of course. I had beautiful quarts rocks that I had collected from my travels, all hand picked by me, everyone having a special meaning. I also had several marbles of different colours and sizes. There were two tiny figurines, a cat and a bear which I moulded with my own hands. The material I used to create them was the soft and rusty colour clay I found in the ground, from up in the nearby crevasse. I had added a collection of a few shiny jewels that I picked up from my moms junk jewellery box and a couple of brand new silvery coins that my mother had given me. There were some mussel shells which I retrieve from the bottom of the lake as well but the one thing in my treasure box that I held so dear to my heart, was my late father`s photograph.

This picture gave me such warmth and contentment by just looking into his twinkling eyes and from his happy smile. The image of someone I would refuse to forget as long as I lived on

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