It’s a beautiful, sunny day on the beach. I can hear peals of laughter in the distance, and I tilt my head up to feel the warmth of the sun on my face. The air smells salty, my skin slick with sweat and SPF 50. Nothing is waiting for me, nothing is urgent, except for the cool ocean water beckoning for me to come in. The sky is so blue and the clouds like small puffs of smoke snaking along the horizon, promising a full day of perfection. The sand is smooth between my toes, and I fall into a soft sleep, the sound of the water my lullaby. All is well.

In the cool quiet of our room, we are a tangle of limbs and blankets. I sink deeper into the arms of the one I love. His smell is earthy, like trees and cocoa. His skin warm and familiar, like a million stories all stretched out into one person, onto a body shaped to fit mine, and only mine. Outside the window, dawn is breaking. The blue-gray world is being stirred awake by golden sunlight. I hear the birds singing, lives moving, people preparing to start another day where anything can happen. I look up at his sleeping face and decide that the world can wait, and I’ll stay right here in our tangle of limbs and blankets, and sink even deeper into my cocoon. Five more minutes, plus an eternity.

I roll the window down and stick my head ever-so-slightly outside, enough to feel the rush of the wind in my hair. The city is a blur of lights, and I am young, and so is the night. Tonight, everything is electric- the air, my skin, my energy. I’m on my way to somewhere to meet a few someones, to do some things that could be nothing or everything. The music is loud, and I can feel it in my chest. My friends are laughing about something, and all of us are in the here and now and it’s all there is. Tomorrow doesn’t exist, and it doesn’t matter. We are living.

My parents are having a party downstairs with a few friends. I’m in sixth grade and I need to go to sleep because I have school tomorrow. I turn down my lights and watch as my glow-in-the-dark stars begin to show themselves in the shadows. I can hear the clink of glasses and the muffled sounds of grown-up conversations and laughter. I wonder what it is grown-ups laugh about? And will I be laughing about the same things when I’m older? I fall asleep to the sound of them and it’s a comforting feeling, knowing that one day I’ll have dinners in my own home and drinks that kids aren’t allowed to drink. I’ll know more things and talk about issues that matter, like budgets and politics and raising families. Whatever it is that matters to grown ups. But for now I am in sixth grade, and I can hear the clink of glasses and the muffled sounds of laughter of grown-ups who seem to know everything. As I fall asleep, I think to myself, surely when I’m grown, I’ll know everything too…

I’m here, now, sitting on this chair. My hair is a messy bun on top of my head, my coffee is getting cold, and I think a mosquito just bit me. Everything is not well, and yet, it is well with my soul. I can feel a million stories just wriggling around inside of me waiting to be given life. I am on the beach languid, I am young as the night, I am naive as a child, and knowingly un-knowing all at the same time. It is not a constant state of my mind but sometimes, like this moment, I feel them resting on my shoulders like a feather. It always catches me off guard, when doing something so mundane like falling asleep to the sound of a party. So I want to honor them here and now, my friends Gratefulness and Contentment, for never coming during my laborious pursuit of them, but only when I am quiet enough to listen. When I’ve released my hold on the desire to control and trust that I am where I am needed. And even if tomorrow they leave me, I know they will return, during some humdrum activity or another. Perhaps while watching the trees, or my children growing up. Or while looking at my youth in pictures, or tracing my wrinkles in old age. I know they are always there. I just need to sit, and do nothing, and listen.