I woke up this morning by Bahamas

I woke up this morning to the familiar sound of a small gas motor running at full tilt. For a moment my mind lied to me, it let me believe that I was down in the bay, watching the Haitian sloops unload their cargo in the small tin boats. For a moment I could smell, feel, and see everything. Around me the small restaurants cooked their breakfast specials; I could almost taste the corned beef and grits, the tuna and eggs. The sand was slowly molding to my feet, filling every nook and cranny, the sun shining down on my head, warming me to a comfortable temperature. The water before me shone as blue as it ever had, almost blinding me with the light of the sun, but I didn’t care, in fact I was happy. I slowly peeled back my eye lids when I heard several people swearing in the hall. Reluctantly, I climbed from beneath my covers, and moved toward the window. I pulled the curtains to the side, and was shocked by what I saw. There it was, Snow! Snow so white that it hurt my eyes. Suddenly the warmth from my dream faded, the sand slowly changed to snow, and the warm sun to a big ball of ice. I was saddened by what had happened: my brain had lied to me, and I let it! I slowly walked to the bathroom, and checked the water, and typically, it was ice cold. Within the few seconds that my hand sat beneath the faucet, it turned blue. I dragged my feet as I headed back to my room, all the while cursing this dismal place. In the hall, I passed by many other depressed people; we all looked like everything we cared for had disintegrated. The frozen church bells sounded different as they struck eight, their tone was much more piercing than usual, and I suppose that they too were sad. I pushed open the door to the cold wintery world, and the cold air insistently struck my face. I stepped outside, no longer protected by a roof, and headed for class. Beneath my shoes, the snow crunched, and onto my head more fell. I crossed over the slushy street with great caution, all the while fearing my imminent demise. I could see it, me on my back in the middle of the crosswalk, but somehow I made it across safely. My next feat was climbing the hill. The path had yet to be plowed, so my feet sank down into the cold white snow; I could feel it falling into my shoes, soaking into my socks, and slowly freezing my feet. I could now see the sanctuary that is English class. I walked through the door, and the warmth pulsed through my body. I fear that I may in fact be forced to go back out into the snow.

[click here for a picture of Bahamas]