I am lying on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, and watching the rain fall from above through a gap in the curtains, fat drops dripping from the eaves amongst the millions of raindrops fast falling. The thunder almost sounds like a purr thrumming into me, lulling me to sleep. This sound that once frightened me as a child now provides a soothing bass line as my day wends towards its end. The most natural position, I find, is with my left arm up on the pillow beside my head, right hand resting on my stomach, my head turned slightly to the left, and my eyes closed. This feels right, this feels…perfect.

There are things to do, of course. Yes, there is always something to do. Laundry to be done, corn to be shucked and boiled for dinner. But for here, for now, this is where I am to be. In these forgotten minutes that make up my fringe hours. Listening to the music of the clouds, an orchestra playing the oldest lullaby just for me.