Alex Mayberry

Good evening, my name’s Alex Mayberry, and I’m very pleased that you’ve joined me tonight for this sleep story, which is called ‘A glorious day’. Before we begin, wherever you are listening to me right now, take a few moments to breathe deeply and let yourself sink into the comfort of where you now lay. You may be in your bed, you may be on a couch, you may be staying at someone’s house, in an unfamiliar bed. Wherever you are, let your muscles and body now switch off, close your eyes, and let your breathing fall gently and slowly. And now I’ll begin…

 

What a glorious day.
The forecast promised much,
but you can never tell until the morning actually arrives,
the sun having stood down the moon
and folded away the cloak of night,
for another day.

From the moment Penny opened the curtains wide,
and the sunlight touched every surface in her kitchen,
she felt good.

She poured herself a cup of coffee.
Two slices were dropped into the toaster
and as she stood by the window,
Penny gazed up at the wide,
blue
sky, which provided a
bright, inviting backdrop
to the
trimmed
green
borders
of the back lawn.

Her rose bushes had bloomed well this year.
The odd weed protruded here or there,
but she enjoyed the task of separating them from the soil,
feeling the coolness of the earth
as her fingers delved
into the ground;
inhaling the scent of the grass
and the flowers dotted nearby;
and the satisfaction and admiration she felt
from improving something’s appearance,
marveling at her hands ability to turn potential
into reality
- like a hoovered room,
or one filled with junk
made useful again.
Yes, she would get round to the weeding
but it was a job that could wait
for another day.

The bread leapt up,
lightly toasted now.
The rising heat from the surface
loosened a thick layer of butter,
convincing it to give up its solid state,
and encouraging it to mingle
with the crunchy surface.
Penny went with her inclination
on any given day
to decide on a topping.
Her pantry had everything
from marmalades and curds,
to spreads
like peanut butter
and chocolate hazelnut.
Some days, she would choose none at all,
the saltiness of the soaked in butter
being more than enough.
Today,
strawberry jam
was given the nod.

Penny sat outside in her chair on the patio.
Tiny pools of water,
here and there,
were the only evidence that there had indeed been rain through the night,
but still
it was not that much.
The evening clouds had only opened their doors seemingly,
wide enough to let a cat out.
The early morning sun had claimed much of the moisture,
drying Penny’s seat except for the slightest amount
which her soft cotton pyjamas soaked up
without her noticing.

As she munched on the assembled breakfast,
she closed her eyes and imagined the beach.
She was accustomed to tucking her car into a site,
which was hidden slightly
behind the landscape’s nearby mounds.
It was further away than most went,
ensuring that finding a space
was guaranteed,
and stress free.
More than that,
the walk that place offered,
a reward for those who found it,
was akin to a gateway
from one realm
to another.

There she now walked,
on the path
away from her car
which was warm and resting
beneath the sun’s smile
wide and radiant.
With every step,
her breathing grew deeper,
longer,
and more satisfying.
Her lungs became nourished
and full,
nudging her body to stand taller,
straighter,
so as to increase their capacity
further still.

The change in elevation
as she grew in height
sparked greater awareness from her senses.
Penny’s ears,
more open and receptive now,
accepted the sounds of seagulls chattering
as they glided on
airborne waves.
Following their trajectory,
her mind willingly volunteered
to be transported away
from everyday demands,
helped further by the hint of brine
that saturated the breeze,
it too coming in waves
that gently landed
on the shores of Penny’s nostrils.

The stress in her body was summoned
to fold itself into little suitcases,
to be loaded onto the next ship
that would lazily bob
and float off
out to sea.

As she approached the dunes,
the scent on the air grew stronger.
Penny breathed deeper still.
Although keen to get there,
she moved at the pace of someone
absorbed in the moment
with no demands to limit
when her enjoyment would end.
And so, her stride bordered on lazy,
as the track beneath her feet
morphed from gravel to sand,
hard
to soft.

Penny had not looked towards the sea
since leaving her car.
She enjoyed a ritual of delaying
that first sight,
building it up
and revelling
in the moments of anticipation
like when the lights at a cinema or theatre dim,
causing a ripple of excitement
to flow through the audience
while the sea
waiting backstage for its cue,
recited its opening lines.

The raising of the curtain was now imminent
as the path turned downwards
and the horizon emerged from its hiding place
beneath the undulating dunes ahead.

Her ears caught the laughing cry
of a young girl nearby,
an echo
that danced in her memories
of when she was a girl herself.
She remembered the sun-drenched trips
with her grandparents to this beach,
the hours of enjoyment to be had
with a simple red bucket and spade.
Penny and Pop would make castles,
decorated with seashells and a moat
dug around the perimeter.
As the day progressed
and the tide creeped ever closer,
the sea would oblige
heartily filling the trench left for it.
Penny’s eyes would be closed on the drive home
by the time the last rampart succumbed,
the ice cream label flag
bearing Princess Penny’s house colours,
then destined
to endlessly drift
on deep waters.
 

With her towel laid out
her sunscreen applied
and her phone switched off,
Penny reclined
with one leg bent at the knee,
its connected foot planted flat
on the uneven surface.
Her other limb dozed sleepily beside it
stretched out
atop the ground.
A travel pillow propped up her head,
while a simple wide-rimed straw hat
provided a shield for her face
as well as being
a sun dimmer
so she could read her tablet
unimpeded.

She made use of all the possessions she’d prepared
throughout the day.
The story
which took her hand
and easily lead her along its road
of mild intrigue
and knowing humour.
The miniature wine bottle
stored in a cooler bag,
a pleasant accessory to the portions of food
waiting to be consumed
in tubs of varying size.
The headphones
for when she wanted to rest her eyes
and turn onto her front
for her back to absorb
a little
of the sun’s healing rays.

Her skin there bore the imprint
of her bikini top,
the outline filled with the towel’s design
like a temporary tattoo
coloured by a child
going over the lines.
She unclipped the clasp
sighing at the release.
The alcohol moved quickly
to silence any internal prudish protests
before they were voiced.
As the warmth spread across
the landscape of her body
she smiled
feeling relaxed,
happy,
and at peace.

And so, time passed.
The world carried on
as it always does.

On the beach
couples walked along
hand in hand.
Young people played sports,
or relaxed to music
with friends.
Children dug holes
exploring how far down
they could go.
Others asked to be buried
up to their neck
giggling as they emerged
from sandy tombs.
Others engaged the water
on a board,
or a boat,
or just with their bodies.

At the right time
Penny packed up her things
and slowly made her way back
to her slumbering car
but not before connecting
with the sea.
Barefooted,
she approached the edge
where the tide reached
with foamy fingers
comforting the sand
before it covered it completely.
The coolness wrapped around her toes
lingered as the water receded, but
its harsh sensation evaporated
with the feeling of relief
from the dry sun baked terrain
as her feet accepted
the welcome wetness.

As she moved,
the water lapping softly now
against her ankles
she took in the sight of the sea
and all its splendour.
Its beauty.
Its size and sheer vastness.
Its inconceivable depth.
It’s nature.
It’s power.
It’s age.

The sea was an old friend.
It had seen her
many times,
throughout her life.
As a child.
As a young woman.
Maybe some day
as a mother,
or an older woman,
with grandchildren
building castles like she had once.
That time,
had passed fleetingly,
but was not gone.
It was retained
in memory.
It was here.
In her heart.
In the sea.
For eternity.