“If you’ve never stared off in the distance, then your life is a shame.” ~Adam Duritz,
Tucked neatly in the side of a hill just around the bend is a cozy little bed and breakfast. It’s not too small that one feels like there’s no privacy, and not too big to provide room for too many guests.
My favorite room has a canopied four-poster bed laden with a feather bed and white down comforters and piles of pillows that are perpetually entertained by the dance of the flames in the fireplace across the room. An over-sized pale pink armchair sits diagonally in front of the crackling fire, promising to make room for me when I’m ready, right after its nap.
I throw my books on the small table next to the slumbering chair and head for the french doors that open to a private balcony shared with an old weeping willow. Golden strands whisper hello and I smile watching them play with the Autumn breeze.
Freshly fallen leaves crunch as I wander down to the brook sending soothing earthy smells to fill me till dinner. The water gurgles and sings, silencing all other sounds of nature, inviting me to follow its twists and bends until the sun warns me of its departure and I turn back the way I came, my hair carrying some souvenirs, my pockets brimming with others.
After flirting with me mercilessly, soup and freshly baked bread settle themselves cozily in my arms and I make my way upstairs, avoiding the chatter wafting from the sitting room nearby. The over-sized cookies beg to come along, but I only have so many hands so I promise to steal them away at midnight when eating isn’t real.
Refreshed and exhausted I finally curl up under the comforter, balancing my book in one hand and a mug of soup and a chunk of crusty buttered bread in the other, carefully adjusting everything until it feels just right- all except the crumbs who’ll challenge my patience all night like the ticking of the mantle clock.
The willow tree and the fire take turns distracting me but finally lose interest and die down, leaving me to join a world already in progress, between the pages of a novel that should have been finished weeks ago…
I fall asleep remembering that you said you’d be here tomorrow by noon and that you’re looking forward to…