2 Frankie couldn’t remember the last time she dreamed a vivid dream, yet this one she had a hard time telling if she was dreaming or not. Ksshhhhhhhhhhhhh ………………. Kshhhhhhhhhhhh …………….. Kshhhh SQUAWK hhhhhhhh Frankie opened her eyes and to her delight she was sitting on a pool raft,
floating in the Mediterranean Sea. She knew immediately where she was. Years ago, she took a trip with her family to Capri and would recognize it in a heartbeat. Afterall, this was one of the happiest times of her life. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Now this was a dream. Being in Capri was where Frankie felt most alive. The tiny island off the west coast of Italy is where her mother’s family roots were sowed. Her mother always told her stories of afternoons spent outside of cafes, with a strong espresso, a sweet biscotti, and the beautiful company of family and friends that became family. She could never understand how this life was given up for the idea of something “better” in a far-away land. People would give up their homeland, their identity, for what they thought was the American Dream. It is crazy how life does that. We run from simplic - ity because we want more, more, more; until we run from that more for the simplicity we once had. Though it was a dream, Frankie couldn’t help but try to enjoy it like it was the first time she was there. She felt the sun beams on her cheeks, tightening her skin as the rays reddened her round face; a trait people often reminded her came straight from her father. As she lay on her blow-up raft, bobbing with each wave, she couldn’t help but to hear a faint echo of something in the distance.
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