Oceans breathe high and low tides connecting to the land of the conscious living. Beachgoers splash, splish, float, and swim in a dance with deep blue depths.

“Waterloo Road.” My jeep’s headlights finally flash against the bright green exit sign, illuminating the two most important words on my mind, and signaling my homecoming.

iPhone alarm. Wake up. Why is that sound so rattling every time? I always mean to change it, but I never do. I blink my eyes open. I remember one time, my best friend told me sometimes she wakes up by violently opening her eyes—destroying her slumber from lying like a wooden plank on her back. Like just the reminder of being alive is unsettling.

Beings become predators when they can’t get what they need from themselves, so they actively seek it from their prey at all costs.

Have you ever noticed the human desire to label things? We label objects, such as trees, dogs, or the sky, and we label each other too by dictating certain traits.

Do you know what I want to be when I grow up? The sweet breeze. Not the soul-chipping winter winds. Nor the violent whipping on the planes. Rather I would be the whisper-soft, sweet breeze; a nickname they call me.

As I pick apart my tired eyes and worn reflection in the Louis Armstrong Airport bathroom, I allow my mind to wander.  Earth’s wide-open space, particularly the undesirable mid-American planes come alive.