I laid in the exquisite silence of dawn. Birds chirped outside the open windows, and the newborn pink sky tilted towards another day.
I smiled as I remembered my dream:
My wife and I were sitting at an outside gelato café in Turin, Italy.
She was reading the local newspaper (which was weird, since she doesn’t understand Italian!), while I was mapping out our travels for the day.
Kids rode by on their bicycles, and elderly men and women walked down the street either on their way to – or from – the outdoor market.
The weather was perfect – mid 70s with just a slight breeze.
As I continued to replay my dream, I rolled onto my back.
I yawned, and streeeeeetttched…
The cramp twisted my calf into a tight pretzel knot.
My foot pointed grotesquely as I quickly rolled over to the edge of the bed.
I put my foot on the floor, and remembering what Auntie Aggie taught me, I slowly started to apply pressure, oh so slowly standing up.
The pain was the antithesis of the morning I was just having –
It consumed my thoughts, and ate holes into my Italian dream.
I gnashed my teeth and squirmed in discomfort.
I began to make deals with god and the devil.
In desperation, I began to rub, then punch my overly fatigued muscle.
A guttural groan escaped my throat.
The seconds became years…
When finally, the demon’s grip on my lower leg let loose and was allowed to relax once again!
I plopped back on the bed, looking out the window.
For a moment I tried to grasp that memory of Italy – a place I’d never been.
But like the cramp, the memory was gone.
The newborn pink sky had turned daylight blue, and it was time to face the day.