Light filters through the window, splintering into rainbow colored ribbons of light. They warm my cheek and I close my eyes. If I try hard enough, I can imagine myself somewhere new. Grass beneath me, sun above me, nothing around for miles except for trees and wildflowers. Your fingers barely grazing mine as we lay side by side. It's perfect-this make believe world I start to dream up. The noise of the city is miles away. The sound of birds chirping and our slow, steady breath is all we can hear. It's something I crave; that freedom. That newness. That peace.
And every once in a while, your face changes into someone new and the grass fades to a mountain and the sky turns grey and the wind cold. We sit together, me and this new version of you, looking down on the world below us. Still free. Still at peace. Still happy.
And then you change again. The mountain is sand and the air is hot and the silence is full of laughter and crashing waves.
This perfect life I dream of changes every so often but the feeling doesn't.
There is always me, next to you.
There is hope.
There is peace.
There is freedom.
There is breath in my lungs and fire in my eyes and joy overflowing in my veins, warming my skin.
Every time I dream of my perfect place, I am happy.
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