Waiting

From where he was laying, nothing mattered. He was alone in his mind and at piece. Nothing and no one had the power to bother him.

The ground was cool to his back - even as the sun baked his chest, face, and legs. It was soft, pungent - smelling of fresh grass clippings and the musty nodes of moss. He liked the way the blades felt between his fingers and tickled the backs of his knees.

He knew that he wouldn't be disturbed. When people looked for you, they don't look in the back yard. They look through the house and just assume you aren't home - not out back, on the ground, looking up at the sky.

Today was a perfect day to gaze up. The sky was almost completely clear. Crystal blue like the waters in the caribbean, with a few wisps of clouds drifting by on an unseen current. The breeze played softly in his ear and cooled his cheeks. When he closed his eyes, the world was orange and vacant. He could hear everything, but it was nice seeing nothing. When he needed to return to reality, he's open them again - to that large wonderful blue swath above him.

Sometimes he'd wish a plane would fly overhead - to make him feel small to the rest of the world.

Other times he hoped for a storm to gather above him and drench him. Bringing with it that sweet smell of ozone.

Today, he just wanted to remain planted in the grass and gaze up.

At this very moment, he was lost in the sky.