| Current mood: | dreamy |
| Current music: | ani difranco : itch |
In the future ...
I want to get married quietly and humbly, outside, in bare feet and a sundress with only the people I love most in the world around me. I want to go home after the honeymoon to a gaggle of outraged relatives and family friends who can't decide if they're happy for me or pissed off because no one told them. I want to be approached by my mother's country club friends who will give me that pinched, cloying smile that says they disapprove and will ask me, with venomous veiled sweetness, if the rumors were true and then scowl at me when I give them that sarcastic, sickly-sweet response that I'm famously disliked for. I want them to meet my husband, knowing that they plan on disliking him, and watch, smugly, as they're won over. I want a love and a friendship that will last forever and know that I can give myself and every inch of my heart and vulnerability to him without fear or hesitation, and know that I will never be left for a bottle of gin or something better.
I want to live in the city, in some stylish apartment with a huge kitchen and chairs that swallow me completely after a long day at work. I want to write for some snotty, well-known magazine, editorials that are smart, scathing and entertaining, but modestly sentimental and sweet sometimes. I want to walk fast in impossibly high heels and short skirts, with straight hair and glasses that make me look like I'm capable, like I know what I'm doing. Because I probably won't. I want to have more than the average 12 minutes a day of real conversation with my husband. I want to work like mad and still manage to be the best mother in the world, because super-moms can balance that sort of life.
I want to own a house in the country. I want to wake up with the sun on my face and stand on the huge wooden deck that over looks the little brook not far from the ground-level patio where we typically entertain on the Fourth of July and other summer "holidays" that don't actually exist in any other world but this one. I want to stand out there in my pajamas and glasses, with my hair in a bun and a hot cup of coffee in my hand and watch the sun rise, and listen to the water and the small animals just waking up to begin their daily routines. I want to feel the petal soft breeze on my face and drink in the scents of peace and nature and know that I am alone and that my closest neighbor is miles away, nothing more than a sharp glint of early sunlight reflected off of a window pane. I want the smell of pancakes and bacon to wake up a sleepily grinning husband and two little boys in matching spider-man pajamas that they outgrew last summer but insist on wearing anyway, because those are their favorites and there's no use arguing when they've made up their minds. They take after their mother that way. At night I want to lay down on a huge blanket spread over thick, soft grass and stare at the inky black night sky and teach my children the constellations and the stories that accompany them. When they're finally asleep I'll pick them up and carry them inside, a soft, silky head nestled on my shoulder and long legs dangling and I'll sigh because it won't be long before they're as tall as I am and then taller and then they'll have girlfriends and I'll no longer be the only woman in their lives.
This is my perfect life.
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