Everywhere I’ve Ever Been

My eyes are closed. The harsh curves of my office chair beneath me submit reluctantly to the contours it has known for the past two years. To my left, frost coats the edges of the window panes, spreading out like shaddered crystal. The low, idle hum of my computer monitor drones on without pause. The once smooth hardwood floor below me feels raw beneath my rubber soles. My hand firmly grasps the fresh cup off coffee in front of me, grateful for the warmth it provides. Two feet away a phone rings. The echoing sound is abrasive against the blank unadorned walls that surround me.

My eyes are closed. Salty air fills my lungs. Its taste lingers momentarily on my tongue. Below me, the sloping ground drifts soft and warm. There is sand between my toes, beneath me, soothing between my fingers. The sun shines through my eye lids and its warmth is instantly absorbed by my face, my bare arms, my back. Waves crash softly before me. The spray gently dots the tops of my feet. In the distance, puffs of clouds tower into the sky and sail effortlessly over the turquoise waters below.

My eyes are closed. The aluminium bike rests between my legs. Its black rubber tires radiate a soft heat onto my calves. There is noise everywhere. Car horns, street vendors, talking, laughing, yelling. The warming sun heats the expanding pavement causing a carnival of odor to overtake the precious few pockets of fresh air around me. Sweat oversaturates my bow and begins to race down my face, leaving behind a salty streak of sheen. As the light turns green, hundreds of cars, bikes, and pedestrians continue their daily campaign across their urban jungle, passing my idleness quickly and sending waves of humid air in their wake.

My eyes are closed. My feet dangle over the ledge of grass. The waning light of the day yields to waves of colors across the sky, smokey reds, shadow blues. With the evening comes a cool breeze, its effect stronger now with nightfall. Sheep flock behind me, eating the last of their sunlit patches before retiring back into the hills for the progressing night. The fresh water of the lake advances and recedes in endless cycles below me, momentarily covering the small rocks and pebbles that frame its arching shoreline.

My eyes are closed. A great nothingness expands on all sides. In the paleness of the waxing moonlight, mountains mitigate the threshold between heaven and earth. Not a soul creeps in the frigidness of the night. There is silence. Only the stars stir. A silent and cyclical revolution of the heavens. Above me stars form pictures atop their eternal black canvas. There is a scorpion. There is a cross. There is infinity in every direction.

My eyes are closed. I see my office in Chicago. I see the beach of Garden Key. I see the streets of Beijing. I see the shores of Lago Rupanco. I see the stars of Atacama.
I’m everywhere I’ve ever been.

My eyes open.

I’m already there.

About the Author : Montana Crady decided that traveling is much more fun than working in an office, so he decided to pursue that endeavor full time. He now spends his mornings traveling to new places, his afternoons exploring them, and his evenings dreaming of the wonderful things life has in store for him tomorrow.

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