Was It All a Dream?

I wandered the familiar streets of my memories. Smelling the saltwater air and the scent of garlic and onion cooking as kitchens started prepping for the day. The fog was heavy over the city, and the morning doves softly sang their tunes repeatedly. I walked and nodded at men pulling their fresh baked goods behind them in a cart on bicycles. Smiling as we passed, acknowledging the start of a new day and this city’s routine. 

I found my way down to the ocean, drawn to the sound of the waves, deafening in my ears. Surfers were paddling out to catch a morning wave in and though I looked out of place, they knew I belonged there. I passed runners and men doing pull-ups on the bars set up around the city. As the sun rose higher the fog slowly faded back to the horizon; I found a place to sit and observe the day go by. Nannies in their uniforms pushed children in strollers and gossiped together as they walked past. I soaked in the familiar sounds and smells as I meandered through the city. 

All of a sudden I heard a loud horn, and it scared me awake. I opened my eyes in confusion only to find myself in bed -- in the States. A feeling of sadness washed over me as I realized I was not home, but in a different city on the other side of the world: a landlocked place with no ocean to walk down to. My home of Lima, forever there in my memory.