Americans aren’t spending enough time with their eyes closed.
Over the past four or five years, I’ve fallen in love. Even that description is too weak for what I’ve experienced. Smitten, infatuated, head over heels—these synonyms come a bit closer, but still miss the mark.
This demi-goddess I worship generally arrives just after lunch. Wordless, as in Sandburg’s “Fog,” she arrives on “little cat feet,” gently takes my hand in hers, leads me to my Lazy-Boy, and snuggles beside me beneath a light blanket. She kisses my eyes closed, eases my breathing, pushes me into the cushions, and by her grace steals away, however momentarily, my troubles and my obligations….