Hiding in Plain Sight

It was the summer of 1998 and Sam and I were at the Polo Field Metroparks.  I know it was that summer because that was the only summer that Sam and I were alone.  Sara passed away in November 1997 and Abby joined our family in May 1999.

So Sam and I were in the big field at the Polo Field and it was a gorgeous summer day.  Sam was off leash (again, this is not legal, don't do it :) and I decided to lay down in the grass and enjoy the sun.  Sam was smelling and frolicking and, for once, there was no one else around.  I decided to call Sam to where I was, so I whistled.  Sam looked up, then resumed sniffing.  I whistled again and Sam started looking around.  I called his name and he started looking around more and then began to trot around.  I realized when I focused on his face that he was looking for me at my normal standing height - since I was laying in the grass he couldn't see me.  He was looking for a vertical me, not a horizontal grass-height me.  This was fascinating so I continued to call and whistle and watch him trying to find me.  I felt a little bad (though I wasn't actually hiding), so after a few minutes I sat up.  He caught sight of the movement, saw me, and ran over.

One of my favorite moments with Sam followed.  We both laid down in the grass and we were facing each other with our chins on our paws.  We really looked at each other and I told him what a good dog he was.  Such a simple thing.  Looking into each others' eyes, laying in the grass.  It was a great day.

So, I'm thinking, what in my life might be "hiding in plain sight"?  What might I not be seeing because I'm expecting it to look a certain way?  Hmmmm....  What might happen if I change my point-of-view or abandon my preconceptions?  Maybe what I'm looking for is right in front of me...calling to me...