Streams

Tessa slowly woke up.   She could feel the cool sheets at her fingertips and the comforting press of the quilt her grandmother had lovingly stitched when she was a child.   Her mind reached by habit for the roiling streams that tangled the air in her bedroom.   She jolted fully awake but kept her eyes squeezed shut.   Normally the first touch was calming.  The sweet baby dreams of the toddler next door.  The frenetic, guileless busyness of the squirrel that lived in the spreading oak in her front yard.  Today though, anxiety, worry and panic battled for supremacy.  There were many minds that were in great distress.  She snapped her eyes open.  It was going to be a long day.