"My dream for the future is..."

My dreams of the future often surface in my mind while I'm running. It's cold outside. Cape Cod is chilly in February. There's a salty breeze blowing gently off the marsh that I can now make out through the trees. The breeze stings my face. I pull my sweatshirt's hood up over my ears without breaking stride.

The paved path winds gently through the scrubby forest of stunted pitch pine and brush. I've been here only a week and already the path seems familiar. There has always been something familiar about the Cape; something I can't quite put my finger on. Perhaps it's something inherent. Maybe I'm just comfortable here. Either way, I can imagine myself making a life here.

My stride is steady and my lungs are serving me well. I emerge from the woods at the end of the marsh. I listen to my sneakers bang across a picturesque wooden bridge that carries me to the other side. After a steep ascent and a few quick strides across a concrete parking lot, I am within earshot of the crashing waves. I slow to a walk, hands on hips as I ascend over the dune on a planked boardwalk. My sneakers finally hit sand.

As I stand to admire the ocean still breathing quickly, a father walks past me carrying his young son. The man's wife is not far behind him and she smiles to me as she passes. They make their way along the beach. The father points to the horizon, his son's eyes follow his every suggestion. Several minutes pass as I observe them, unwittingly. Finally, I turn, prepared to resume my run. I smile thinking of the future.