Tug the covers up to your chin.
Tuck your feet in, too.
Cozy socks, if you're wearing them.
An extra blanket, if it's cold.
Get as snug as you like.
For the next six minutes...
we're going for a slow walk.
You won't have to leave the bed.
Let your eyes close.
And picture a garden gate.
Old wood, painted green a long time ago.
There's a little frost along the top.
It sparkles when you get close.
Somewhere past the gate...
wind chimes are moving in the breeze.
Soft and far away.
Put your hand on the latch.
It's cold, but only for a The second.
gate swings open without a sound.
Before you step through...
there's a small wooden shelf by the gate.
For things you don't need inside.
Set the day down on it.
The Friday rush.
The email that came in right at five.
The drive home in the dark.
It gets dark so early now.
Headlights on before dinner.
Maybe a text you haven't answered.
Put your phone on the shelf, face down.
Whatever is still buzzing...
set that on the shelf too.
It'll wait.
Nobody takes things from this shelf.
It's been here for years.
Breathe in the cold, clean air...
And breathe out a little cloud.
Watch it fade.
Now step inside.
And let the gate close behind you.
A narrow path runs through the garden.
Flat stones, dusted white.
Paper lanterns hang along the way.
Low and golden.
Each one making a small warm circle.
We'll take one step for each breath.
No faster than that.
Breathe in...
and lift your foot.
Breathe out...
and set it down on the frost.
A soft crunch.
In...
past the first lantern.
Out...
a quiet step.
On either side, the garden is sleeping.
Rose bushes cut back for the winter.
Tucked under burlap.
A little apple tree with bare branches.
Every twig outlined in white.
Nothing here is trying to grow right now.
It's resting.
Saving up for spring.
You're allowed to do the same.
In...
the cold air in your nose.
Out...
your shoulders dropping under your coat.
Off to one side, a little stone birdbath.
Frozen over.
A few leaves caught in the ice.
A bird feeder hangs above it.
The birds are asleep somewhere nearby.
Puffed up and warm.
In...
another lantern.
Out...
another step.
The chimes are a little closer now.
Hanging from a branch up ahead.
And under the branch...
there's a bench.
With a thick wool blanket folded on it.
Sit down.
Pull the blanket around your shoulders.
It's warm.
Like it came straight out of the dryer.
From here, you can see the whole garden.
The lanterns glowing on the frost.
The sleeping trees.
The chimes move now and then.
Then go still again.
Your hands are warm in your lap.
Your breath is slow.
The Just rest here.
garden doesn't need anything from you.
If your mind wanders back to the gate...
let it.
Your day is on the shelf out there.
Right where you left it.
Holding just fine without you.
One by one...
the lanterns start to dim.
Soft gold...
then softer.
Warm under the blanket.
The chimes almost silent now.
Peaceful.
Goodnight.