I’m in the middle of nowhere, yet I’m everywhere. I’m a part of everything. All my senses are engaged—awakened and happy.

Sitting on the front porch, I lean back so I’m staring up at the night sky. It’s dark, and the stars are numerous. They are crystal clear when not competing with the glare of the city lights. They are happy to be center stage, and I’m their grateful audience.

Occasionally, clouds roll in, briefly blotting out the sparkling display and depositing large raindrops that splatter on the porch rail that I’m using as a footrest. I’m getting wet, but I don’t care. The rain cleanses my surroundings, and I take in the fresh scents it stirs up as it nourishes the soil and foliage. I feel the rain splatter against my bare feet. It’s cool, but I don’t bother to move. I’m enjoying the sensation of it hitting my toes and tickling my parched soles.

I’m drinking pinot grigio from a margarita glass, not worrying about proper wine etiquette. The beverage is scintillating, causing my taste buds to dance as they enjoy the crispness of limes and green apples.

A friend is reading a book of poetry—Yeats, I believe. I can’t say I’m a lover of poetry, but having someone read it to me, someone who loves the art, loves the meaning and the cadence, makes me appreciate the rhythmic writing and the emotional response it’s meant to invoke. The sound of my friend’s voice conveying the words written so long ago alternates between comforting and exhilarating.

And the stars—oh, those beautiful stars—are my light and the main attraction. Their twinkling and dancing make me appreciate this moment more than anything.

I’m not nowhere. I’m everywhere. My senses are alive, and I’m a part of everything.