She walks barefoot down the long dirt driveway, feet dancing free from claustrophobic shoes. Her eyes gaze up at the old oak tree in the front lawn, where a family of raccoons chatters in their new home. Down by the small pond, a mother begins swimming lessons for her ducklings, while bullfrogs groggily croak and red-breasted robins sweetly sing. White and lavender lilacs tickle her nose, as dandelions plant kisses on the backs of her hands. She dances with the wildflowers, twirling among Indian paintbrushes, daises, and black-eyed susans. Mason jars filled with honey, lemonade and maple syrup provide tasteful afternoon treats for hours of reading books, swimming in the river, exploring the woods, and lounging on old rope swings. She picks fresh strawberries and raspberries, shucks corn on the cob, and savors Amato’s famous Italians. She listens to the sounds of bees buzzing, crickets chirping, and the soft flapping of garments hanging on clotheslines, peacefully drying themselves in the summer wind.

As the sun fades behind evergreens, she rests her head on a soft pillow of long grasses, smiling while pinks and oranges blur together like watercolor brushstrokes sweeping magic across the sky. The stars emerge, twinkling with an extra special luminous glow from afar, while fireflies zoom their little lights around a chorus of peepers keeping the night awake.

And tomorrow?

Another day of the good life.