It’s three in the afternoon, and I find myself laying on my back in the field behind my house, staring up at the clouds through my slightly over-sized, childish-looking, electric blue sunglasses.

The clouds, they’re beautiful.

In my head I can hear him saying Goals? I don’t need goals to be fulfilled. I can be fulfilled by laying on my back, looking up at the clouds.

I close my eyes to the world, because in that one moment I am infinite. In that one moment, I know exactly where I am, exactly how I feel. I can smell the sweet green scent of the grass that’s curing through my fingers and my bare toes. I can hear cicadas buzzing in the trees off to the left. And if I listen closely – oh, so closely – I can almost hear the voice of the ocean, speaking to me from down the road.

I open my eyes, and there he is, standing over me. Looking at me with a perplexed expression.

I take of my sunglasses.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“I’m being goal-less.”