Is it too much to ask to find someone to grow old with that would like to sit by the fire in the evenings and read and rest while listening to the croonings of Iron & Wine, Jose Gonzales, The Weepies, Ray LaMontagne, Death Cab, and the likes... No TV polluting the atmosphere... Conversation with comfortable, enjoyable silence between. Something hot and aromatically sweet in a warm mug, warm lamp light and candles, no fluorescents blinding the peace... Just heavy, cozy blankets in the winter and large, open windows in the summer. A company of two dear friends in love with each other. Countenances in appreciation of one an-other's differences and in blissful enjoyance of our similarities.
All of this daydream is a life after college. I live only bits and pieces of my desires as I reside in a place with a thousand geese and their brown mushy letters. It's nice here, but there's greener grass. I'd like to plant some. I suppose I have to just live the best way I can, now, with what I have. In this I must convince myself to be content for another year... But I'm still convinced that I might know him... and he might know me... but, I guess we'll have to see. For now I'm writing letters to God. And they aren't brown, under someone's shoe or in the middle of the road.
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1 comment:
Oh Aimee dear. I love this post. It is so you. You without lace and frills. . . just you being honest. I'm praying for you! Please write me soon so I will not be quite as clueless, even though your blogs help me read you like a book ;)Miss you so much!!
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