  Last night under the moon when I didn't end at my feet but spread across the surface of the earth so that I was no more. This morning when I could actually hear the rustle of the breeze above the awakening suburban din. And now people are out, mowing their lawns. The sun is out, I'm grateful for that. My Babcia's favorite flower is the sunflower.
My Dziadzio used to grow them with the vegetables in the yard. My mom and her sister and brother would fight over who got to keep the heads. I understand all this now. I had to go up and feel those petals, so bright and happy and trusting in the goodness of the world, as if where it stands is the finest place on the face of the earth.
I would have fought for those heads as well. Border collie Risky's heart burst with joy this morning, and she tore around the yard like a puppy, stopping occasionally to madly dig a hole, or grab a stick, or roll around on the grass, or smell something new. She is getting restless, anticipating our visit to the park to meet with her friends, both the canine and human variety. Time to go. 
