I am most at peace here, by the shore of this quiet lake. It's fall, the best time to be here. The air crisp but not yet cold, sweater tossed about my shoulders, wine glass in hand, kicked back on a lounge chair staring up at the stars. Cicadas serenade me in rhythm with the waves lapping at the rocks along the shoreline, and the snap crackle pop of the campfire keeps the chill off my legs and fills my head with sweet wood smoke. Trusted dog naps peacefully on one side of me, trusted mate relaxing on the other side, reminding me now and again that I'm always in his thoughts by giving my hand a little squeeze. If I were to die here tonight, just like this, it would be perfect. I'd be content in death.