Yet, There Are Moments...

There are some days when the “daydreaming” takes over my mind and my heart.  It’s usually just for a few moments, but yet it still happens some days.  I have all that I need.  I don’t need anything but what I already have.   I have so much. 

Yet…there are moments….that I dream of flying to Paris on business for an important meeting.

 Maybe we have to have these moments to appreciate all that we have.  I am surrounded by love everyday.  My husband tucks me in when I don’t feel good and keeps the boys quiet so as not to disturb me.   My children laugh and giggle at the dinner table about silly lyrics to made up songs.

Yet…there are moments…that I dream of buying the Sunday paper from the little corner store in the city and walking to the bakery for a cream cheese danish.

Maybe we have to have daydreams in order to know what is real to us; know what our truth is.  I have more than I deserve. I have a husband who supports my every whim or creative idea and encourages me to do what I want.  I have children who play the recorder on a Saturday and play the baritone for the fun of it.

Yet…there are moments…that I dream of owning my own gift shop and selling 

homemade jams in a small town in Vermont.

Maybe they aren’t “daydreams” at all but more like little pieces of our personality that just peek out every once in a while to tell us it’s ok to day dream about life and all it has to offer.  What ever you want to call them, they sneak into our days and allow us to drift for a few minutes to places unknown, to be creative in our own little worlds. I suppose it’s not about wanting a different life, but knowing that life is filled with endless possibilities.

One day, maybe one of those daydreams you have will no longer just be a daydream?

Daydream

When I daydream, I always wander to the same place.  The road is covered by trees and shrubs and vines are creeping up the trunks of all the old oaks. When I see the wooden fence line on the left, I’m almost there. A natural opening occurs in the trees and there is a dirt road on the left that leads to the cabin. The dirt is soft and moist from the rain.  I always roll the window down to listen to the drops of rain falling from the leaves onto the wet undergrowth.  The smell fills my lungs with moisture and makes my heart ring.

The cabin is almost a mile off the road and is over 100 years old.   It was built by a man and his wife and took over two years to complete.  The porch is slanted towards the east side and two boards are cracked on the second step leaving a hole big enough for the rabbits that reside under the porch to come and go as they like. There really isn’t any paint on the house anymore, just chips of white flake here and there.  To paint it would spoil the charm and character the house worked so hard to achieve.

The view is nice, (a small lake surrounded by sugar maples) but it’s the atmosphere of this nook that draws me in.  The sky is barely visible due to the height of the trees and the ground is covered with leaves of every color the autumn weather can create.  It’s not cold, but a sweater is always around my waist.  The air is heavy from the rain and the trickle of water running down the side gutter can be heard ever so slightly. I can smell the lake and its muddy bottom from the steps. 

It is in this daydream that peace wraps around me like an old fashioned shawl.   I feel embraced by warmth and serenity just by “being” in this place.  I always sit in the rocking chair on the porch for an hour or so before going inside to light the logs in the fireplace.  Solitude.  Quiet.  Nature.  All in their place in this place. My daydream.  My place.