Porch Hammock

4-4-2017

Once and a while, I have trouble breathing at night especially when I lay down. A variety of reasons has been explored, but it pretty much comes down to indoor allergies (we do have 4 cats and a lot of dust). I was in moderate distress and trying to stay calm because having an anxiety attack over it just makes it even harder to breath. My husband suggested I go sit on the porch to see if the fresh air would help. Stepping out into the darkness, my bare feet curled at contact with the cold floor boards, goose bumps prickled my skin, and involuntary shiver ran down my spine, but my lungs and sinuses wanted the fresh air. The hammock stand was in pieces on the porch, so (after going back inside and putting on socks and a warmer outer layer over my pajamas) I assembled it, then dug my camping hammock and sleeping bag out of the car where I had put it earlier that day in preparation of spending the weekend in the Adirondacks. All curled up in the hammock, toasty warm, gently swaying, blending into the nightscape, watching the narrow strip of stars visible between the roof line above me and the ridge line across the way, listening to an audio book, hovering on the misty shadowy borderline between wakefulness and sleep, not wanting to let go into that peaceful oblivion because of the enjoyment I was feeling floating here in the hammock being relaxed and breathing.

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