Sitting on one of the mahogany benches, I look around me as sun filters through my secluded refuge.  All is silent except for the whispering breeze and the soft call of birds.  The plush grass beneath my feet, I hop from stone to stone in my silent hideout.  So many stories I've written, were written here.  I've read so many books while sitting on these benches.  The silence was just what I needed for my imagination to thrive.  With a few carefully chosen words, this place would transform into a fantastic scene of fiction.  The art pieces on the wall, in memory of Sharon S. Naki, were beautiful, creative, and full of life and color.  So many secrets and tales have been shared in this circle of benches, grass and stone.  They all seemed to whirl around my head with the wind.  So many blissful memories were shared here, yet so many secrets lie here, undiscovered.  So many people pass by without even noticing.  Hidden in plain sight, holding so much.

When I sit on the bench, I remember friends.  We shared laughter, told secrets, and stories of our past, present, and all our hopes and dreams for the future.  Memories of warm, golden sunshine, the smiles of my friends, and the times I came here alone when I was angry, confused, and sad.  Memories of when I came here, alone, to share secrets with myself.  Secrets only meant for me.  Memories of days my journal have beautiful words filling its once empty pages.

The memorial was the source of so many memories, both sweet and sour, that would never be forgotten.  Just visiting the memorial makes me feel like I'm in fifth grade again, writing stories with the mid-afternoon sun shining on the lined pages of my journal.  These memories I will never forget.