My eyes must be open

My eyes must be open; I am sensing a gradual softening of the thick darkness to a shade of heavy blue. I am aware of a sound, like a long roll of high quality paper tearing, then only stillness. My feet do not seem to reach all the way to the wide pine board floor. It doesn’t matter; I float a few inches above the waxed surface toward the necessary. I cannot discern the sound of splashing. My fingers pass through light switches without effect. I float into the kitchen. My fingers pass through the handle on the faucet. A few weightless globules of water float into the air. I touch them with my finger, instead of breaking apart into tiny balls they join into a gelatinous ball that finally wiggles down the drain.

I sense my three year old granddaughter floating up the hall from her room. She floats into my arms burying her little face into the hollow where my neck joins my shoulder. “I love you Pa.”

“I love you too, sweetheart” I can see individual atoms of air polymerizing into long chain molecules. They turn iridescent blue and start shimmering brightly.

We sit in my heavy wooden rocking chair and together breathe in the strands of life. Everything is just as it should be. We reach full consciousness together very slowly.