Welcome to Sleepy Shorts Short Stories for Bedtime. This podcast is brought to you
by I have a story to tell you that will help take your mind off
all of your worries and cares. Just listen and relax, then drift peacefully
into sleep. It's time to turn off the lights and snuggle into your bed.
Find your most comfortable position there. Now take a few seconds to relax
your mind. It's time to sleep. Time to rest and rejuvenate our minds
and bodies. In order to prepare our bodies for sleep, let's do a
couple of muscle relaxation and breathing exercises. I want you to inhale for account
of three, and while doing so, tighten all of your muscles and inhale
one two, three, Hold your breath, keep your muscles tense. Now
exhale to account of six. While you relax all of your muscles one two,
three, four, five six, feel your body sinking deeper into your
bed. Let's do this one more time. Take a deep three second breath
as you tighten your muscles, hold it now, relax and exhale to account
of six. Let your body sink even deeper into your bed. Now it's
time for your sleepy short Let me help you fall asleep. Relaxing in the
hammock, the glow of an orange sky spills through my bay window, alerting
me that it was arriving at the end of its shift. With little delay.
The orange turns blue, then purple, then black, and then comes
the magic of the night sky. Twinkles of light spread out as far as
I can see, following the rolling fields behind my country home. They invite
me to join in their majesty, and I force my tired body to oblige
their invitation. My farmhouse home is a fair retail wonderland of natural awe and
beauty. Even when Mother Nature has turned off the lights. When the cool
breath of the night settles over my land, that's when I truly see her
beauty come alive. Though the air is cool, the ground is still warm
from the day's beating sun. I leave my shoes by the back door and
allow my toes to soak in the soft, plush comfort of grass and earth.
This is when my senses come alive, and I'm suddenly connected to the
natural world that surrounds me. In the distance, my fields are alight with
a blinking of a thousand tiny fireflies, all working diligently to find a comfortable
place to rest their tired wings. I follow my childhood curiosity out to their
meeting ground. When I was a girl, my father would hand me a
jar with tiny holes poked through the metal lid and asked me if I wanted
to learn how to catch lightning in a jar. Eagerly, I followed his
lead until my jar was full of tiny, blinking lights. Be careful,
he would say, These little guys are our friends. We need to care
for them until they are ready to show us their magic. Once both jars
were full and the cloak of darkness had settled over the fields for the evening,
we would walk them to the darkest part of our property. Gently,
we would set the jars on the ground, and together we would open them
and release their light into the night sky. Watching the lightning bugs fly away
leaving a winding path of yellow light was one of the most mesmerizing memories of
my childhood. I make my way further into the field, stepping as carefully
as possible so as not to disturb any unsuspecting creatures. The light of a
firefly beams just a few inches in front of my face. Unconsciously, I
reach for the tiny creature, allowing my fingertip to serve as her resting ground,
even if only for a moment. I watch intently as she crawls down
the side of my finger and finds her way to the warmth of my poll.
Her tiny light blinks as if in approval, before she crawls her way
to the tip of my thumb. Her little light blinks once more, as
if to say goodbye, and then she's gone, flying off into the evening
sky. The fresh country air holds me toward the stables, where horses Dancer
and Daisy live in perfect harmony with one another. I can hear their low
brain. As I pass our pole building, the one with a dangling tire's
wing, I pause to grab hold of the fraying rope that holds the drying
tire just above the soft ground. It is amazing to recall all of the
memories that flood my mind each time I pass this swing. My favorite,
however, is the one of my first love, pushing me as high as
the swing would possibly go. Now that first love snoozes on the couch in
the house, slowly disappearing behind me. Sixteen years and not a day goes
by, but I don't remember the day we spent playing on the swing.
I walk past my sleeping horses and down the dirt path that leads to the
open wild flower meadow. It reminds me of a scene from the series Planet
Earth. Various shades of purples and blues pepper, the lush green foliage that
grows from the rich earth beneath it. This is a sanctuary for the senses.
The rhythmic chirping of grasshoppers and the patient breeze of a country night are
the only sounds for miles. The tall grasses brush my feet as I approach
a large handmade arch. Intricate flower carvings bend and weave like ivy around the
exterior of the arch. In the center are two perfectly crafted wooden roses,
their stems intimately wrapped around one another. I taken a deep breath and allow
my mind to wander back to the many times that I have walked under that
arch. My head falls gently backward and I open my eyes to the bright
white of a half moon. It softly kisses the tops of the surrounding birch
trees and allows their branches to paint black veins across its surface. Just a
few paces beyond the arch lies my hammock. It was carefully crafted by my
grandmother as a birthday gift. With it, she wrote a note reminding me
that I should never allow my life to take me too far away from nature.
She instructed me to hang the hammock within view of my home and the
peaceful meadow where the crickets chirp until morning. I hung the hammock the next
day and have visited it often. I take a deep breath and climb into
its soft depths. Though it's been a few years and the material has been
stretched and worn, it holds me like it always does, like a warm
hug on a cool summer night. This is my sanctuary, an escape from
the world, and a reminder that I need all that the earth has to
offer me, especially her peace. I direct my attention back to the sky
and stare into the heart of the moon. With just a little of its
light, I see the depth of the balloon that showers across the night sky.
Its glow reminds me that there is no such thing as eternal blackness.
It's all in our perception. Everything stops when I'm in the hammock, the
world falls away, and I remind myself that life is good right now in
the moment. I come here for this reminder often, and it has kept
me grounded in the realization that life's problems are only as big as we make
them. I look up to the Moon and imagine traveling to its surface.
How tiny everything on Earth must seem when you're standing a million miles away.
How insignificant a small problem or a bad day must seem. How vast and
full of possibilities it must appear. Instead. Of course, I would never
truly want to travel to the Moon, not unless I could box up this
small piece of heaven and take it with me. I'm content with staring at
its majesty as it floats across the sky. My eyes grow heavy as I
search the skies for one more gift. If I trace my finger from the
North Star up to the center of Orion's belt, then to the left,
stopping just before Leo, I will find the star named for my family.
From there, I can spot Ursa Minor and Ursa Major, and even the
Gemini constellation. They remind me just how connected we all are, not only
here on Earth, but also in the great unknown, I allow the hammock
to rock me gently, lulling me into a deep sense of calm and relaxation.
A shooting star streaks effortlessly across the night sky, adding to the gifts
that nature offers me every single day. I allow myself to soak in its
glory and give thanks for all it has to offer, while swaying peacefully and
my hammock. Good night. M hm m m m mo m m m
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