My bedroom window was open all night. It was finally warm enough. The room was filled with the smell of nighttime and of cool fresh air. I could hear the birds, and I heard when it started to rain, one of my favorite sounds in the whole world. I heard the drops fall from the roof to the deck, and I thought maybe I heard a rumble of thunder but then again maybe not. There I was comfy in bed, reading my iPad and surrounded by Fern and Gracie, both asleep and both deeply breathing, more sounds I love. I was totally content.

The top of my Cape Times was wet though it was in two plastic bags. The Globe was dry. I took my time reading the papers and drinking my coffee. Days like today invite leisure, a slow savoring of the morning. The rain stopped a short while back. Out my window I can see the pine trees, and I can’t remember the last time their branches were so still. I can hear birds singing and very now and then a bright yellow goldfinch flies by my window. Their color is in such contrast to the gray branches of the pine trees that I can see every one of these small bright birds who are sitting on branches waiting their turns at the feeders.

If I could change my life, I don’t think I would. Well, one thing maybe: a bit more money so I could travel more often. I imagine my doorbell ringing, and, there, standing on the steps, is a burly man dressed in a suit holding his fedora. He introduces himself as Michael Anthony, the executive secretary of John Beresford Tipton, Jr. In his hand is a cashier’s check for one million dollars made out to me, taxes already paid. I sign what we’d now call a non-disclosure agreement and the check is mine. I remember when I was young I’d watch that show, The Millionaire, and dream about what I’d do with the money. I don’t think I understood the magnitude of a million dollars, and I suspect my dreams back then would have been fairly inexpensive to fulfill. I do remember, though, that one of them was to travel around the world. Sometimes dreams stay with us forever.