Where the earth ends and the sky begins

Saturday morning, and I sit outside with my milk-coffee and my book, watching the lake. Without the rains to wash the sky of dust, you can’t see the mountains on the opposing side, and the lake looks like an ocean. When did this become my life, that I wake up early on the weekend to sit on a veranda overlooking a body of water in central Africa? Really, I don’t know when it happened, how I became this girl. The winds aren’t strong today and the waves lap mildly at the lava rock shores. How can anyone imagine any life other than this? How will I ever be able to return to work in a small fluorescent-lighted office? After this?