Hammocks in the Hammock

Uncle Bubba was out working around the yard, no major chores, just the joy of puttering around in the fresh air and sunshine. As the hours passed he made his way towards his hammock that he has stretched between two trees. As he casts a short gaze upon it he reckons that he doesn't spend enough time lying in that comfortable cloth sling. After another lap around the yard he gives in to his inclination to flop into the hammock. He laid his head back and gazed up through the tree leaves, past the canopy up into the cobalt sky. How wondrous a sight of such a simple thing, yet of rare a sight if one does not take a moment to lie on one's back. A child wouldn't think twice about it. They fall on the ground and roll onto their backs and look at the clouds drifting by. But as an adult the view is different; it comes with more wisdom, more insight into what makes the trees and the clouds. And it comes with the knowledge that its finite, that nothing lasts forever; therefore the appreciation is much deeper, much more meaningful.

Bubbie relaxed and with a deep sigh he closed his eyes. He could feel the warmth of the sun dapple on his face as it danced through the leaves. He felt the air move across the hair on his arms as he rocked, floating above the ground; suspended comfortably. He would have loved to drift off to catch a few winks except for a bug that he felt walking on him. It made is skin crawl as he flinched. A bug. A simple, tiny insect, yet so annoying. In the chaotic business of life we often say that something bugs us. In Bubbie's view its a poignant moniker for those pesky buggers, the bug. So on this day he couldn't nap but he still had the rest.