Space in an Acre

I am still trying to comprehend how one space can take up so much space in my memories.

I can fill this acre with half a lifetime. I can stack boxes overflowing with stories. I can cram friendships and heartbreaks into the remaining space, then I can tell you where everything goes when it is time to unpack.

At that table is where a friend consoled me when a boy had only wanted a piece of me. On that curb is where I was propositioned by that boy. On that swing is where I told of how I shouldn't have trusted him. In that tanbark is where I once again fell as I had fallen when I was young. On that court is where I learned to ride my bike and walk away from boys who only want a piece of me. At that bench is where I witnessed the questioning of a boy who knows what pieces he wants. In that grass is where I discovered that I was friends with girls who would have settled for that boy. On those beaten pathways is where I walked alone at night, learning to be afraid of any person who may want a piece of me. In the sprinklers' spray is where I realized that I had no reason to be afraid because I would someday find a different boy: one who would wait to know every piece of me, including my flaws, and who I would want to know every piece of. On that blanket in that meadow between the basketball court and the swings is where I realized that I was sitting next to him. 

To those who have seen this acre:

One day, I hope you realize that bringing you to that park was like some sort of initiation which, upon completion, granted you an official spot in my heart. By bringing you there, I trusted you with an acre full of my past and some extra space for you to leave some of yours.