This morning, as I opened my eyes, trying not to look at the
alarm clock, I realized that I was outside and it did not surprise me. I was in my bed in a field of wild
flowers. The field was surrounded by
cattails and reeds. The dainty white,
pink and blue flowers swayed in the gentle morning breeze. Peaceful.
I could spend the day here, I thought.
Then, to the right of me, I noticed movement in the reeds. A great blue heron was standing among them,
so thin and regal. I gazed at it through
half closed lids when it came to life and opened its great wings and hopped
into flight to land on my bed and squawk up to my pillows to wake me up.
Wake me up thoroughly, it did. I sat up quickly and once in position I
realized I was clearly in my own bed, in my own room, staring at the dirty
clothes on the floor. The same job, the
same chores, the same worries facing me.
The same grind. At least I have
the memory of it to sustain me today.
