I’m dreaming. A different life. A different way to spend my time. Mind not filled with worries. Open the back door to the sound of waves crashing on the shore. Or maybe the sound of a hallow forest, birds chattering to one another in the tops of the trees.
Simple. Easy. I spend the days in my studio out back, a converted barn or maybe a loft over our garage. The natural light pours in, giving me the sunshine I need to feel alive again. I paint. I write. I photograph. I edit.
On the weekends, I visit the farmer’s market, pick up the vegetables and fruit we need for the week in a basket I carry over my arm.
My kids tag along behind me, picking out their favorite treats. Maybe a jar of clover honey or a bag of juicy peaches. I don't worry about their safety or the dirt underneath their fingers. Dirt washes. They are safe. I know these things. I rest in them. In the evenings, I use what I’ve found to make dinner, perhaps paired with some organic chicken—something nourishing—something we can all eat. No allergies allowed.
In my dream we have a dog.
I name him Barkley. I was a Sesame Street fan, what can I say? No one is allergic and miraculously, the dog never jumps, sheds, barks or has an accident in the house. He is my boys’ best friend. As the sun sets, I sit out back with my husband watching the kids play in the yard, finding frogs, chasing fireflies—dreaming of what they’ll be when they grow up. We drink lemonade and talk about how big they're getting. How much we enjoy watching them grow.
After they go to sleep, I return to my Adirondack chair, next to my husband.
We hold hands and talk about how it’s the simple things that make us happy. Our friends. Our family. Watching our kids achieve a dream. He composes music on the back porch as the sun dips down, disappearing on the horizon...lighting the moon on the other side of a great big sky. We stare upwards for awhile, marveling at the brightness and clarity of the heavens. We pick out constellations and he shows me the ones I never seem to find on my own.
In the morning, I go for a long walk.
I talk to God. He hears me. He talks back. We’re friends. Pals. He isn’t far from me. He’s there when I call Him. I carry a journal and record my ramblings…ramblings that may one day become stories…or dreams…or the next chapter in the storybook that is my life.
My neighbors wave when we pass by. We trade recipes and they show me how to start a vegetable garden—how to prune my bushes and flowers so I get the best blooms. I never leave the flowers outside. I bring them in and decorate the house with the beauty of nature. Seeing them in a vase on the table makes me smile.
There are dinner parties. Bar-be-ques and outdoor movies on the side of the house. There’s exploring and safety and beauty at every turn.
It’s a simple life, this life in my dreams. Cotton fabrics and nothing fussy. No primping--it's a come as you are kind of place. All are welcome. The computer is far away. The video games are an afterthought, saved for a rainy day. The phone doesn't ring off the hook. Telemarketers don't know we exist. We have no idea what movies are out, what commercials are funny or what the latest celebrity scandal is.
We play board games to pass the time. I never feel hurried or rushed. I never feel like I'm running out of time or that I'll never pass by this way again. I devote my life to the simple thing that make us happy. Those are the things I pursue.
Simple. Easy. Alive.