What I would like

I would like to go to bed early some night, with the sunset.

I would like to be in my own bed, yet have it be dark and quiet. No conversations in the hall or out on the street, no TV, no music, nothing but a gentle breeze in the leaves and maybe the sound of Piper wheezing softly under the bed.

I would like the sheets to be freshly washed but soft and broken in. I would like warm feet, a cool face, a soft pillow, and the scent of lavender, not too strong. I would love to have no headache, no neck ache and no aching in my knees.

I would like to sleep all through the night, deep and dreamless, and not wake up even once until the sun begins to rise.

I would like to get up when it is light, but before the sun is all the way high. I would like to step out of bed and stretch and still have warm feet and warm shoulders that do not ache. Then I would drink a glass of water and head downstairs to make tea for breakfast.

I would like to find that my house has been relocated to a beautiful tropical island so that I could sit at my kitchen table and sip tea while watching the sun come up over the ocean from my sliding glass doors. I would open the glass slider to the screen and let in the scent of wildly blooming tropical flowers, the ones canopying my deck.

After breakfast, I would put on flip-flops and shorts and head out my front door which, since my house has been miraculously relocated, now faces a stunning mountain bedecked with leafy vines and waterfalls. I would run up the mountain until I got to the top of the first waterfall, which would also be the bottom of the second waterfall, and I would stand in the spray with vines shading my face as I looked out to sea at bright blue sky and deep blue water.

I would run back down the mountain, and now it would be getting very warm, so I would go into my house and put on my bathing suit and head out to the expansive white sand beach that is now my back yard. My skin would soak up the sun without burning as I worked my way deeper and deeper into the warm, gentle waves of salt water. I'd sit down in waist deep water and let a wave knock me full in the face, and then I would laugh.

When I was pickled in salt water, sand and sunshine, I would head back to my house, my own house, and take a long shower in sweet fresh water. I would have time to put on lotion and essential oils, to brush out my hair and rub cocoa butter into my feet. I'd dress in a white cotton sundress and feel pretty and clean.

I would eat strawberries for lunch, and maybe pineapple. Also avocados and almonds, maybe almond butter on a banana.

Of course, my family would be there. But they would not need me to make their food, or to clean up after them, or to arbitrate their disagreements. They would just be there, enjoying the beauty alongside me, and there would be an abundance of peace and joy and love.

And in the afternoon we would read good books
and talk about deep ideas
and walk around in the sun
and the shade
and the sumptuous flowers
and the fine, white sand.

And then dinner would be ready, with no mess and no stress, delicious cold chicken sliced over tender young greens, served with nuts and a delicate, freshly concocted vinaigrette dressing. A small ensemble of musicians--strings, or perhaps a woodwind quintet--would play beautiful music at a distance, the sounds carried to us on the wind.

And then as the sun began to set, I would like to do it all over again.

But I may need to settle for a strawberry smoothie and an eight-pack of marigolds. Which is not half bad, especially if combined with a back rub. (*smile*)