It's cold out tonight.
So let's go somewhere warm.
Just in your head.
For the next six minutes...
picture a backyard in late summer.
The evening after a long, hot day.
The grass is still warm under bare feet.
The air smells like cut lawn.
And somebody's grill, a few houses down.
At the far end of the yard...
two old oak trees.
A hammock hangs between them.
The rope is soft and gray.
Years of sun did that.
A faded cushion.
A blanket folded at one end.
The breeze is moving through the leaves.
You can hear it before you feel it.
A few fireflies are blinking by the fence.
Slow little lights.
On...
and off.
Let your eyes close...
if they haven't already.
You can still see the yard.
Walk over slowly.
There's no hurry out here.
Sit down on the edge first.
Feel it dip and wobble.
Then swing your legs up.
Lie back.
The whole thing curves around you.
Like a hand cupping water.
Every hammock does that little wobble.
Then it finds its balance.
So will you.
Notice what the day left in your body.
The desk chair in your back.
The phone screen in your eyes.
The hammock doesn't have a flat spot.
You can't hold yourself up in it.
You have to let go.
So let your back go.
Let your eyes go.
Anything else from today...
let it slip through the rope.
Down into the soft grass.
Like loose change from a pocket.
It'll be there in the morning.
You won't need it before then.
Your shoulders sink into the curve.
Your hips settle lowest of all.
The rope takes the shape of you.
Pull the blanket over your legs.
Just enough to keep the breeze off.
It smells a little like sunscreen.
Now the hammock starts to sway.
Very gently.
Nobody is pushing it.
Let's breathe with it.
As you breathe in...
it swings slowly forward.
As you breathe out...
it drifts slowly back.
Breathe in...
and swing forward.
Breathe out...
and float back.
In...
the leaves moving above you.
Out...
the ropes creaking softly on the branch.
In...
a little breeze across your face.
Out...
your whole body going loose.
Forward...
And back...
Your arms rest on your belly.
Rising and falling with the swing.
Your head is heavy on the cushion.
Your feet hang a little over the end.
Between the leaves...
the first few stars are coming out.
You don't have to count them.
Remember being a kid in a swing?
How you'd stop pumping your legs...
and just ride it down.
It's like that now.
You've stopped pumping.
You're just riding it.
The sway is getting smaller now.
You Slower.
don't have to breathe with it anymore.
It's breathing with you.
A porch light clicks off next door.
The yard gets a little darker.
If a thought from the house calls you...
let the breeze answer it.
You're staying out here.
Just the breeze in the oaks.
And you, rocking under them.
Forward...
And back...
The oaks will hold you up all night.
That's their job.
Keep rocking.
As slow as you like.
The fireflies have gone quiet.
The grass is cooling.
You're warm under the blanket.
Swaying...
into sleep.
Goodnight.