January is half-way done and I’m not sure how to describe the place I’m in. I suppose it would be best to say, I’m in the same place I’ve always been, floating somewhere between different wants, different lives, different worlds…all the while, not being where I want to be.
Sometimes I feel like my dreams are too big for me, like the life I can so clearly imagine in my head will only ever exist there. The life where I wake up in a big bed with soft pillows, and the smell of rich coffee wafting from a cluttered, yet charming kitchen. Where I’ll be living in a cozy apartment nestled between the city and ocean waves – one that’s filled with shelves of books, and walls of arts, and plenty of love. And I’ll be surrounded by rustic furniture, some fresh plants, a little fish, and spend my days listening to records, drinking wine, and lighting candles that flicker in the impending twilight.
I want to sit by open windows overlooking mazes of streets, and write to my heart’s content, not worrying about money or time or anything at all. I want to wander down unfamiliar lanes, stumbling into new coffee shops, and staying out until the sun goes down. And go to bed happy with my little treasures and my little life and then wake up and do it all over again.
Anyway, sometimes that all seems crystal clear to me and other times, like now, it seems impossible. It’s frustrating at times, and scary too. But at least for now, I have my cup of tea, and the sound of Autumn Leaves playing in the background, and this fuzzy pink sweater. At least for now I have a job and my health, and a room that’s filled with sunshine, and people who love me. And at least for now I still have my dreams and the courage to pursue them.