I meander along a quiet path outlined in hostas and flowering perennials. A graceful bend leads me to a patio with a welcoming table for six. Two red chairs pop in the corner, begging for cozy conversation. Just small pops of painted color bringing the human element to this natural sanctuary.    

A birdsong invites me to sit and stay awhile, and I oblige under the shade of a large oak tree. The breeze rustles wildflower blooms that play in my hair. As I sit and take in the view, a swimming pool, a play set, a working shed and a large vegetable garden in the back. It’s everything a family wants and needs. Fun and hard work mixed into one.

This is my dear friend’s home. It is her backyard that she herself created with her blood, sweat, tears and heavy heart. She built this peaceful place after her divorce, after her family life crumbled. Her therapy included hours of planting grass seed, painting the exterior of the splintered house, building a chicken wire fence, and lifting heavy flagstone. All this hard physical labor released the stress and sadness and healed her soul. Most important, these were signs she had strong hope for her family’s future. 

The years have passed, and all of the heavy duty work is behind her. She and her family enjoy a peaceful haven. She has moved on to a place of acceptance.

I joke that she’ll find me sitting in her backyard one day. She and the kids would be unaware. I’ll be a good guest and sit quietly and write, hiding from the toils and responsibilities nagging for me at my own home. Our own homes always have something for us to do, of course. Don’t you agree?

There’s always a weed to pick in my suburban manicured yard. It’s basked in bright sunshine, and the green grass is expansive. The patio is clean and wide. The plants are tucked neatly in a mulch garden to the side. It is lovely but… 

My friend’s backyard is mysterious. There are trails and trees and shadows where secrets lie and hide. My words flow naturally here. The best part is I know her story, and she knows mine. The dearest of friends know each other’s stories and stay alongside them till the end. That is why there’s no place like a friend’s heart and a friend’s home.