Country Paradise

There I sat in darkness on my car port roof, the half moon's dim glow unveiling hazy silhouettes of the vast wilderness ahead. The sky, clear and cloudless, sprinkled with multi-colored specks like paint flicked on empty canvas.

Hot, sticky nights watching firefly lights amidst a sea of brush. A warm breeze offers a slight respite from the scorching summer heat as the stillness and simplicity of the moment proliferates a meditative calmness.

The silence is deafening, cut only by the sound of a cricket's mating strum, and the occasional distant hoot from somewhere amongst the trees. As I close my eyes, I can feel every breath. The flood of oxygen sustaining me, centering my body with each intake and release.

The air smells pure and crisp, sweet even, a mixture of freshly harvested hay and firewood, remnants of an earlier day's work replenishing the stock from the abundance of Mesquite. The pleasurable aroma, hinting of a coming Fall, triggers a euphoric thrill within me.

Inhale. Exhale. The world fades. With the lingering pre-Fall scent in my nostrils, I transcend to reverence and wonderment for the macrocosm only God could create, and my place in it. It's grandeur grounds me, both in spirit and time. Eyes open. I'm once again underneath a starry heaven.

The tranquility of the country offered promises of peace, and it delivered. Nostalgic...the home of my youth is what I long for now. Those quiet nights were so unassuming, I did not fully appreciate its depth.

I do now. As the buzz and bustle of the city encircles me, I often transport to those memories, grateful for having lived them and their ability to ground me still.