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Lol, a Prompt from English class.

The one thing I picture perfectly, at the mention of "childhood" is a "cradle tree". The tree that was mine. My home. The way the sturdy roots hung over the ledge, shaping the perfect area to sit in. It was like a cradle, the way I fit into it. Like it was holding me, and I was lulled almost to sleep by the hum of nearby airplanes and the ever moving trees and wind.
My jacket still has a faint traces of cedar scent. A deep, smoky, and very familiar aroma from the bonfire the night before.
The light shines brightly, but the way I sit, the tree protects me while I am still able to feel the warm of the quickly rising sun.
I swing my legs over the side to admire the creek, covered with the scent of musky leaves and the early morning cold. The trees form a canopy overhead that makes me feel comfort, the dappled- leopard spots of light slowly swaying back and forth as the wind rocks the trees.
Everything is so vivid and green, with the occasional scarlet leaf descending to the stony creek bed below.
A certain grey tabby tiger follows along. Not meowing or begging, but silently padding towards me to sit in my lap. It makes me a little happier, knowing that my big cat Tom seldom offers himself like that. He was a proud old stray-cat.
So, I doze off in a state of complete bliss and comfort.
Aware to everything familiar to me, while the trees still whisper, and the airplanes hum softly overhead.