Speaker 1: Welcome to bedtime Stories for everyone, in which nothing much happens,
Speaker 1: you feel good, and then you fall asleep. I'm Katherine Nikolai.
Speaker 1: I read and write all the stories you hear, and
Speaker 1: nothing much happens with audio engineering by Bob Witttersheim. Thank
Speaker 1: you for listening and for sharing our show with others.
Speaker 1: We give to a new charity each week, and this
Speaker 1: week we are giving to Outright International, working together to
Speaker 1: promote lgbt QIA plus rights and equality through advocacy campaigns
Speaker 1: and legal support. You can find a link to them
Speaker 1: in our show notes. If you are looking for an
Speaker 1: ad free version of this show, bonus episodes, or links
Speaker 1: to our beautifully illustrated book, find it all at Nothing
Speaker 1: Much Happens dot com. Now. Sometimes I hear people say
Speaker 1: that boring things will put you to sleep, but I
Speaker 1: must respectfully disagree. Plus, you just deserve better. I think
Speaker 1: we can do better than boring. I think we can
Speaker 1: have soothing, comforting, peaceful ways to build reliable sleep habits.
Speaker 1: So that's what I have for you, A simple story
Speaker 1: that I'll tell twice, going a little slower the second
Speaker 1: time through, just by listening, sting your mind on my
Speaker 1: voice you will settle your nervous system and sleep. If
Speaker 1: you wake in the middle of the night, please don't
Speaker 1: lie awake wondering when you'll fall back to sleep. Just
Speaker 1: start the story over again. I'll be back to sleep
Speaker 1: in moments. Now, turn off your light and set down
Speaker 1: anything you've been looking at or playing with. It's time
Speaker 1: soften even the hidden bits of tension you usually hold
Speaker 1: on to. I'll be here watching over as you rest.
Speaker 1: You are safe and you have done enough for today.
Speaker 1: Take a slow, deep breath in and sigh nice again,
Speaker 1: in through the nose and out through the mouth. Good.
Speaker 1: Our story tonight is called The Waves at Night, and
Speaker 1: it's a continuation of last week's story, still set at
Speaker 1: the cottage on a warm day. It's also about poppies
Speaker 1: blooming by the roadside, a journal, waiting beside the glider
Speaker 1: on the porch, and sleeping with the windows open as
Speaker 1: the waves roll in on the beach. The Waves at Night.
Speaker 1: The afternoon had been slow and lazy. When I woke
Speaker 1: from my nap under the umbrella. I'd lain for a
Speaker 1: bit just watching the water, smelling the good, clean scent
Speaker 1: of it on the breeze. I thought of how some
Speaker 1: languages describe the fresh water of lakes as sweet when
Speaker 1: it smelled sweet light, not the briny salty smell of
Speaker 1: the ocean, which is good in its own way, but
Speaker 1: the clean, clear scent of rainfall melting snow. Eventually I
Speaker 1: pushed up out of my chair and had a good
Speaker 1: long stretch in the sun. The day was warm, and
Speaker 1: a swim sounded perfect away to wake me up and
Speaker 1: cool me off, to refresh me for the rest of
Speaker 1: the afternoon. I stood in the sand in my swimsuit
Speaker 1: and smilingly reminded myself that all I needed to have
Speaker 1: a beech body was to bring my body to the beach.
Speaker 1: Well done, I whispered to myself, Now enjoy it, and
Speaker 1: I did. The water was lapping in slow waves, said
Speaker 1: the sand, and I stepped in, letting it wash over
Speaker 1: my ankles. It was cool, not frigid, but far from
Speaker 1: bath water warm, and that is of course what made
Speaker 1: it so refreshing. It was shallow for a long way out,
Speaker 1: and very clear. I could see straight to the bottom,
Speaker 1: to the ripples in the sand made by the moving water.
Speaker 1: I took slow steps, noticing how it felt as it
Speaker 1: crept up my body. It reminded me of a meditation
Speaker 1: I had done in yoga class a few weeks before.
Speaker 1: We'd lain stretched out on our mats and scanned through
Speaker 1: our bodies from our toes up to the top of
Speaker 1: our heads, letting the sensations we noticed be our point
Speaker 1: of focus. I hadn't known that meditation could be like that,
Speaker 1: that it could just be noticing how something felt, And
Speaker 1: since then I'd realized there were a dozen chances a
Speaker 1: day to meditate for a few moments at a time,
Speaker 1: stepping into the shower, taking a bite of something delicious,
Speaker 1: smelling the coffee as it brewed in the morning, listening
Speaker 1: to the cricket song, watching the waves now as they
Speaker 1: rolled in around me. I tipped myself back into the water,
Speaker 1: letting buoyancy take over, and floating with a little help
Speaker 1: from the slow swirl of my moving arms and legs.
Speaker 1: I belong to the water now, I thought, and laughed
Speaker 1: at myself a bit. That is always how this felt
Speaker 1: to me, though, as if I'd given myself to the
Speaker 1: water and the water had claimed me as her own,
Speaker 1: in the same way that a long walk in deep
Speaker 1: woods made me feel at least a little like I
Speaker 1: was tree folk. Now it was the fancy of a
Speaker 1: little girl that stayed with me, But I suspected I
Speaker 1: wasn't alone in feeling this way. When I'd eventually climbed
Speaker 1: out of the water, I sat wrapped in a towel
Speaker 1: for a while, letting my skin dry in the warm air.
Speaker 1: Then I started to think about dinner there wasn't far away,
Speaker 1: and the sunshine and exercise that made me hungry. I
Speaker 1: collected my empty tea glass and the stack of magazines
Speaker 1: I'd meant to peruse before my nap and headed back
Speaker 1: to the cottage. We had a clothes line strung up
Speaker 1: in the back yard, and I flung my damp towel
Speaker 1: over it before climbing up the back steps and into
Speaker 1: the house. First things first, I wanted a shower. I
Speaker 1: wanted to wash off the sun's green and comb my
Speaker 1: hair and put on some clean, loungy clothes. So that's
Speaker 1: what I did. And when I stepped out of the bathroom,
Speaker 1: with my damp hair and a clip and the good
Speaker 1: moisturizer on my face, fresh clothes and refreshed all over,
Speaker 1: I was ready to get into the kitchen. Now I
Speaker 1: am a believer in having cooking snacks, that is, appetizers
Speaker 1: to munch on while you make dinner. It just makes
Speaker 1: the whole process that much more pleasant and was essential
Speaker 1: as my stomach was beginning to grumble, so I started there.
Speaker 1: I poured myself a tall, cold glass of fizzy water
Speaker 1: with a wedge of lime squeezed in, and opened the fridge.
Speaker 1: I took out cucumbers, an orange, and red peppers, a
Speaker 1: bowl of homemade hummus i'd made earlier, bundles of dill
Speaker 1: and parsley, and some salsa i'd bought at the farmer's market.
Speaker 1: From the cupboard, I brought down crackers and tortilla chips
Speaker 1: and made a little platter with all of it to
Speaker 1: pick at while I cooked. As I snacked, I paced
Speaker 1: around looking at our options for a meal. There was
Speaker 1: plenty to eat, but this little buffet I'd created was
Speaker 1: so tasty, I thought maybe I could just expand on
Speaker 1: it a bit. I took olives and heated them in
Speaker 1: a pan on the stove with a bit of rosemary
Speaker 1: an orange peel. My seasoned broad beans with satar and
Speaker 1: roasted them till they were crispy. I warmed slices of
Speaker 1: bagatte in the oven and poured good olive oil into
Speaker 1: a dish with herbs. I made a chopped salad of
Speaker 1: cucumbers and shallots and tomatoes, with vinegarette crushed pistachios on top.
Speaker 1: We ate on the screened in porch, looking out at
Speaker 1: the water, talking some but also just enjoying the quiet,
Speaker 1: sun tired feeling we both had. For dessert, we had
Speaker 1: slices of watermelon and shared the last lemon bar we'd
Speaker 1: brought from the bakery. We lingered at the table, pointing
Speaker 1: things out to each other in the way of long
Speaker 1: together couples. The Purple Martins were back in their house
Speaker 1: high on the pole. Next door, the pretty boat with
Speaker 1: a blue hull was headed toward the canal. The poppies
Speaker 1: by the road were blooming. As I had cooked and
Speaker 1: in some cases compiled dinner, I was free from dish
Speaker 1: duty and pushed back from the table to settle on
Speaker 1: the glider at the end of the porch. I propped
Speaker 1: my feet up and reached for the journal that sat
Speaker 1: always beside it. I wrote a few words about how
Speaker 1: we had spent the day, about what we'd had for dinner,
Speaker 1: about the poppies, which i'd feared might not have come
Speaker 1: back for another season. The wind was picking up, and
Speaker 1: the pages flipped through my fingers. As the boats stocked
Speaker 1: for the night and neighbors tucked in around us, I
Speaker 1: could hear the waves lapping at the shore. On nights
Speaker 1: like these, we'd sleep with the windows open, and I
Speaker 1: knew that I would hear the waves all night. I
Speaker 1: had that good tired feeling that comes after a day
Speaker 1: in the fresh air. Then I knew I would sleep
Speaker 1: deep all night, and that if I did wake, i'd
Speaker 1: hear the waves and they'd rock me right back to sleep.
Speaker 1: The waves at night. The afternoon had been slow and lazy.
Speaker 1: When I woke from my nap under the umbrella, I'd
Speaker 1: lain for a bit, just watching the water, smelling the good,
Speaker 1: clean scent of it on the breeze. I thought of
Speaker 1: how some languages describe the fresh water of lakes as sweet.
Speaker 1: It smelled sweet light, not the briny salty smell of
Speaker 1: the ocean, which is good in its own way, but
Speaker 1: the clean, clear scent of rainfall or melting snow. Eventually
Speaker 1: I pushed up out of my chair and had a
Speaker 1: good long stretch in the sun. The day was warm,
Speaker 1: and a swim sounded perfect away to wake me up
Speaker 1: and cool me off, to refresh me for the rest
Speaker 1: of the afternoon. I stood in the sand in my
Speaker 1: swimsuit and smilingly reminded myself that all I needed to
Speaker 1: have a beech body was to bring my body to
Speaker 1: the beach. Well done, I whispered to myself. Now enjoy it,
Speaker 1: and I did. The water was lapping in slow waves
Speaker 1: at the sand, and I stepped in, letting it wash
Speaker 1: over my ankles. It was cool, not frigid, but far
Speaker 1: from bath water warm. That is, of course, what made
Speaker 1: it so refreshing. It was shallow for a long way out,
Speaker 1: and very clear. I could see straight to the bottom,
Speaker 1: to the ripples in the sand made by the moving water.
Speaker 1: I took slow steps, noticing how it felt as it
Speaker 1: crept up my body. It reminded me of a meditation
Speaker 1: I had done in yoga class a few weeks before.
Speaker 1: We'd lain stretched out on our mats and scanned through
Speaker 1: our bodies from our toes up to the top of
Speaker 1: our heads, letting the sensations we noticed be our point
Speaker 1: of focus. I hadn't known meditation could be like that,
Speaker 1: that it could just be noticing how something felt. And
Speaker 1: since then I realized there were a dozen chances a
Speaker 1: day to meditate for a few moments at a time,
Speaker 1: stepping into the shower, taking a bite of something delicious,
Speaker 1: smelling the coffee as it perked in the morning, listening
Speaker 1: to the cricket song, watching the waves now as they
Speaker 1: rolled in around me, I tipped myself back into the water,
Speaker 1: letting buoyancy take over, and floating with a little help
Speaker 1: from the slow swirl of my moving arms and legs.
Speaker 1: I belong to the water now, I thought, and laughed
Speaker 1: at myself a bit. But this is always how it
Speaker 1: has felt to me, as if I'd given myself to
Speaker 1: the water when I was floating, that the water had
Speaker 1: cleaned me as her own, in the same way that
Speaker 1: a long walk in deep woods made me feel at
Speaker 1: least a little like I was tree folk. Now it
Speaker 1: was the fancy of a little girl that stayed with me,
Speaker 1: But I suspected I wasn't alone in feeling this way.
Speaker 1: When I'd eventually climbed out of the water and sat
Speaker 1: wrapped it's in a towel for a while, letting my
Speaker 1: skin dry in the warm air. Then I started to
Speaker 1: think about dinner. I wasn't far away when the sunshine
Speaker 1: and exercise had made me hungry. I collected my empty
Speaker 1: tea glass and the stack of magazines I'd meant to
Speaker 1: peruse before my nap and headed back to the cottage.
Speaker 1: We had a clothes line strung up in the backyard,
Speaker 1: and I flung my damp towel over it before clim
Speaker 1: up the backsteps and into the house. First things first,
Speaker 1: I wanted to shower. I wanted to wash off the sunscreen,
Speaker 1: comb my hair, and put on some clean, loungy clothes.
Speaker 1: So that's what I did. And when I stepped out
Speaker 1: of the bathroom, with my damp hair and a clip
Speaker 1: and the good moisturizer on my face, fresh clothes and
Speaker 1: refreshed all over, I was ready to get into the kitchen. Now.
Speaker 1: I am a believer in having cooking snacks, that is,
Speaker 1: appetizers to munch on while you prepare dinner. It just
Speaker 1: makes the whole process that much more pleasant and was
Speaker 1: essential as my stomach was beginning to grumble, so I
Speaker 1: started there. I poured myself a tall cold glass of
Speaker 1: fizzy water with a wedge of lime squeezed in, and
Speaker 1: opened the fridge. I took out cucumbers and orange and
Speaker 1: red peppers, a bowl of homemade hummus i'd made earlier,
Speaker 1: bundles of dill and parsley, and some salsa i'd bought
Speaker 1: the farmer's market from the cupboard. I brought down crackers
Speaker 1: and tortilla chips and made a little platter with all
Speaker 1: of it to pick at while I cooked. As I snacked,
Speaker 1: I paste around looking at our options for a meal.
Speaker 1: There was plenty to eat, but this little buffet I'd
Speaker 1: created was so tasty I thought maybe I could just
Speaker 1: expand on it a bit. I took some olives, heated
Speaker 1: them in a pan on the stove, a bit of rosemary,
Speaker 1: an orange peel. My seasoned broad beans with satar and
Speaker 1: roasted them till they were crispy. I warmed slices of
Speaker 1: baguette in the oven, poured good olive oil into a
Speaker 1: dish with herbs. I made a chopped salad of cucumbers
Speaker 1: and shallots and tomatoes with vinegarette and crushed pistachios on top.
Speaker 1: We ate on the screened in porch, looking out at
Speaker 1: the water, talking some but also just enjoying the quiet sun.
Speaker 1: Tired feeling we both had. For dessert, we had slices
Speaker 1: of watermelon and shared the last lemon bar we'd brought
Speaker 1: from the bakery. We lingered at the table, pointing things
Speaker 1: out to each other in the way of long together couples.
Speaker 1: The Purple Martins were back at their house high on
Speaker 1: the pole. Next door. The pretty boat with the blue
Speaker 1: hull was headed toward the canal. The poppies by the
Speaker 1: road were blooming. As I had cooked and in some
Speaker 1: cases compiled dinner, I was free from dish duty, and
Speaker 1: I pushed back from the table to settle on the
Speaker 1: glider at the end of the porch. I propped my
Speaker 1: feet up and reached for the journal that sat always
Speaker 1: beside it. I wrote a few words about how we
Speaker 1: had spent the day, about what we'd had for dinner,
Speaker 1: about the poppies, which I feared might not have come
Speaker 1: back for another season. The wind was picking up when
Speaker 1: the pages flipped through my fingers. As the boat stopped
Speaker 1: for the night and neighbors tucked in around us, I
Speaker 1: could hear the waves lapping on the shore. On nights
Speaker 1: like these, we'd sleep with the windows open, and I
Speaker 1: knew that I would hear the waves all night. I
Speaker 1: had that good tired feeling that comes after a day
Speaker 1: in the fresh air, and I knew I would sleep
Speaker 1: deep all night, and that if I did wake, i'd
Speaker 1: hear the waves an they'd rock me right back to sleep.
Speaker 1: Sweet dreams,