As I lay in bed last night, I realized that despite the p0lyphonic choral performance by the tiny coqui frogs in the woods behind our house, I could still hear my alarm clock ticking. And then I realized that I have not set that clock even once since I’ve been here. I still have to get up early sometimes–that’s never been my strong suit–but getting up early in paradise is so much easier than getting up early in Tokyo. Mulling that thought, I fell asleep and dreamed of tiny frogs waking to tiny alarms and getting out of tiny beds and eating tiny pancakes with tiny blueberries and packing tiny sandwiches into tiny paper bags and getting into tiny cars to commute to tiny jobs.
I woke up just before dawn. I could no longer hear my alarm clock ticking because of the joyous twittering of dozens of little birds in the garden outside my window. They seemed to be celebrating something momentous, as they do every morning. I smiled a quiet smile, wished them well and went back to sleep.