One week

Only one more week. I can barely stand it. I got up early today. It was raining lightly and still kind of dark out. The fields across the road were kind of bluish-grayish and a light wind made the 100's of acres of corn move like water. I squinted my eyes a little bit and imagined it was the Pamlico Sound, off the back of the house in North Carolina. One week from now, I will get up early and make coffee, and walk in bare feet over gritty, weathered boards to an Adirondack chair, also weathered, to sit in the morning stillness and watch Great Blue Herons stalk their tiny quiksilver prey, and watch Pelicans fly low over the still water, and listen to Osprey call out as they hover and plummet into the water for their breakfast. Fish will jump and the line dividing water and sky, if I squint my eyes just a little bit, will be undiscernible. The dogs will sit quietly next to me, taking it all in too, breathlessly waiting for the walk to the end of the dock for their first swim of the day. I gave a little shiver and smiled. One more week.