Dreaming

Well, I was talking away right here and then I hit an obliteration button or something and away went most of what I had written and I couldn't get it back. Now, I'm too scrambled to think on this rainy, rainy day. So wet, so green, so quiet. Except for the wet part, this is my kind of day. Lazy, quiet, drifty, peaceful, still, my dog napping at my feet and my cat snoozing on the dog bed. I just woke up from a nap myself and now I'm daydreaming about a 14-acre property with a house built in 1934 just south of Black Mountain, North Carolina. It has (had? Someone bought it and might have tore down the house to put up a McMansion). I can see me sitting on the rocking chair on the long front porch, watching my dog play with her would-have-been dog brother or sister. So quiet, the house surrounded by forest and a mountain creek and a winding road. But, alas, I couldn't afford it so someone else got it. I hope they appreciate it as much as I would have if the property could have been mine. One day my time will come for my little house in the forest -- just me and the trees and my pets and wild animals and a tumbling creek and fresh air and quiet, the kind of quiet where you can hear a squirrel's footsteps, leaves falling on the earth, the wind whispering through the forest, the creek traveling down the mountain to the river to the south. The dream is there - I just have to figure out how to make it real.