A warm breeze blew around my face as I walked into work today. It pushed a heavy strand of dark hair out of place from behind my unusually small ear. The air carried the smell of a grassy field of wildflowers. It must have gusted and rolled along for many miles through the dirty city to reach my finely attuned nostrils. As I pushed through the silver doors, I imagined I was barefoot and swinging on the front porch. Higher and higher, the wooden bench creaked and the springs squeaked. Only briefly did I worry about going to high when it felt like the sky was the limit.