I lie in a lush field of unkempt grass, the familiar, calm breeze of the gentle Fairbank disturbing the weeds that surround me. Stalks of green and brown rub against my exposed skin, their rough edges soothing yet disturbing at the same moment. She calls my name and I rise from that natural cot, eyes blind as I pull back my hat and expose them again to the golden afternoon. Peering down from my hill of rest, I see her leaping, climbing, and making all manner of attempts at reaching the leaves of a riverside tree for it's sweet apples, red as the curls that sprout from her head. Laughing my way down the hill as I watched her hopeless attempts, I trip and tumble my way to the bottom, allowing her something to laugh about. She helps me to my feet, presenting me with an apple she'd finally managed to reach. Biting into the fruit, she presses her soft lips against my cheek and releases them with audible smack, a sound that still resonates in my memory.

Reaching for the remote, I pause the video at that very moment.

I lie in an empty hospital room, the cold air keeping the few short strands of hair left on my head at attention. Sterilized white sheets cover me, tucked into the sides of my temporary coffin. Nobody is left to call my name. Turning to peer out the nearby window, my memory replaces the unfamiliar surroundings of brick and asphalt with that of green hills, winding streams, and trees that seemed to go on unending, each seeking to rival it's neighbor in height and girth. Gone in that moment is the scent of disinfectant, the chill of air conditioning, and the constraint of my steel bed. Replaced they are with the scent of pollen in the air, the warmth of the sun on my face, and the delightful itch of gently blowing weeds on my skin. My attention draws back to the television screen and my tired eyes close on that frozen image, and for only a moment, I feel a familiar softness against my cheek.