Lying there under the stars,
I didn't need anything else.
No stress, no thinking, nothing,
Except the feeling of absolute contentment.
Nothing was wrong.
Nothing could have been better.

I was in the mountains,
Seeing the lights of civilization hundreds of miles away.
Something jumped across the sky.
My first shooting star?
There was a slight discoloration,
Like that of a watercolor painting,
A milky sweep across the sky.

Staring at the millions of magnificent glowing specks,
Hearing the slight breeze through the trees,
The faint sound of small waves crashing,
Smelling the perfect combination of tundra and pine,
Feeling the chill being swept off the winter snow hiding in the shadows,
I knew, at that perfect moment,
I knew this is where I belonged.