The waves rolled in, and I could hear them crashing along the shoreline. It was a fresh water lake, with rocks that made up the shore.
My eyes were still closed as I lay on the day bed. I was relegated to the front porch, as it "was not appropriate to sleep in the same bedroom."
Such old fashioned thinking makes me giggle. Yet, I follow to impress.
I can feel the sun on my cheek and I don't open my eyes. My legs stretch themselves out, s I was slightly cramped on a space too small to fit my frame.
The right eyes opens, as if to make sure I am where I am suppose to be.
I am on the porch, on a day bed, with an awful floral pattern on it. It is the kind of pattern that lets you know elderly people own this home.
But the waves keep crashing, in proper cadence. Unrelenting, and ignoring the wind's attempt to change their mind and break their pattern.
I am awake before everyone, I can tell. Nothing it moving, well except the waves and trees along the shore line.
There is crashes again, and again, and again. It did this throughout the night, but I some how missed it.
"Yeah, you'll never forget this," I whisper to myself.
I open my eyes, both, I smell the fresh water, I feel the breeze cutting the screens. And I listen.