A sense of peacefulness fills my body with warmth. I am laying on the top of a boat, floating down the Norfolk Broads, a serene system of interlocking rivers in the East English country side. It seems that it was years ago that my mom, my dad, and I landed at Heathrow airport, when it was really only four days. The sun is glaring, as it is midday. I close my eyes, and feel the boat bob past the quiet countryside of England. The birds are twittering, and seem to be singing just like they’ve sung for hundreds of years.

            I am awoken from my daydream, and it is my mom calling me down for breakfast. I jump off the top of the boat and on to the side, open the door, and then crawl in. I see on the folded out table, a flowered plate of scones, strawberries, and clotted cream. I sit down, and start to spread the cream on the scone. I take a bite. As I bite into the scone, with its soft taste of cream that was accentuated by the strawberries, creating a medley of summery tastes, and as I sipped warm tea from a china cup to wash it down, I felt a sense of pure satisfaction and knew that the day would be good. 

            After I’m done eating, I take my turn driving the boat. I move my hands slowly across the wheel, as to not turn too sharply. My hands are bewitched by the surroundings, moving with the water. I can barely hear the soft murmur of the engine, and it seems that I am piloting a sailboat from years ago. After an hour, I give the wheel back to my dad. I walk into my cabin, and lay down on the bottom bunk of my bed. I can now hear the water caressing the side of the boat. It is intermingled with the sounds of swans and ducks, and the wind howls. Not angrily, but like a coyote that has just found its way home. I gradually begin to lose consciousness, and finally, my eyes close, and I am asleep, drifting through the ages.