FIRST PLACE YOUTH CATEGORY
Home. I let my coat hang free. It waves in the brisk air like a tattered flag. Sweet Spanish music warms my bones, matching the drum of my heels against the concrete. The trees are dry, but they tower over me like giants. The pond is dying but it stretches farther than the skyline. Still, I can see the boathouse on the other side. The old bricks crack and crumble under the weight of history, but the musicians play on. The strum of their guitars paint a mural of Boston’s future in the twitching grass. Within that emerald necklace, home.
Author: Morgan Vail, 16 years old, Jamaica Plain
Illustration: Kelsey Fort