I want a day.
A day with no responsibilities.
One in which I wake up in a mountain home and walk naked to a clear lake for a bracing swim that invigorates body and soul. Knowing the only eyes upon me are God’s and the eagle flying overhead.
I want to see, really see, the sun’s light sparkling on the water as it ascends in the sky. Hear fish jump with a satisfying kerplunk. Smell the fresh mountain air. Feel the warmth of the sun healing my soul, quieting my mind.
I want to run back to the house, laughing at the sheer joy of a day that is mine, all mine.
After a warm shower, I cook a breakfast with pure focus. The mix of flour and milk in a bowl to make a batter I’ve not had time to create in many moons. The sizzle of an egg in the pan as the smell of hearty pancakes wafts from the griddle. I sip coffee and fresh-squeezed orange juice as I eat on the back terrace, overlooking the lake that began my day.
I think about nothing other than what I am eating or drinking.
I am in the moment.
The bills are far, far away. So are the town gossips, the work demons, the deadlines clashing and clamoring for my attention.
The laundry, the dirty dishes and yard work are nowhere to be seen.
Instead, a good book. An Adirondack chair on the lawn, under the large oaks. A bike, awaiting a rider. A path, awaiting a hiker.
The majesty of the mountain makes my cares seem silly.
I watch the sun set and the moon rise as I sip a Cabernet that tastes like it was made by the gods, the flames of the firepit dancing happily.
In the quiet.
Even for just one day.