hard·​wood

I don't know what I want to do with my future (see travel). For now, the tool at my disposal is a brainstorm, a sort of mood board. So here I am, channeling future me:

I'd like to be making an impact, finding fulfillment in my relationships and my input.

I'd like to teach people, maybe kids, and let them teach me back.

I'd like to put on my coat (and maybe a little hat?) and scurry down the front steps with a smile that brightens the day of passers-by and a purpose that brightens my own.

I want to make use of my skills while acquiring new ones every day.

I want to stop at the market on the way home for some bread and vegetables and cook something savory and citrusy with my partner. I want to wrap my arms around his soft waist from behind while he stirs, singing softly together on a hardwood floor with a pet curled up on the carpet.

I want to be always curious and often incredulous. I want to put up new shelves and repaint the walls and let myself trust and love his opinions, because they are an extension of him, whom I love.

I want to go to museums together and spend half the time in silence, the other half in sneaky laughter.

I want to deal with art and music and numbers and language and people, and I want people to say "they are so thankful for your help!"

I want to live within walking distance of my sweet, smart friends and have game nights.

I want a special savings account so I can buy them a new stove or radiator when theirs breaks down.

I want to be surrounded by people who say things like "You know what would be weird?" and "I just read something about that" and "Ooh yes, let me look it up".

I want to feel liberated from fears of spirituality, to connect with Them in a way that turns my storehouses of love into a floral Mary Poppins purse.

I want to work hard and be kind and stay humble; to zoom out and say thanks and find the next right thing forever.

And I want to hold his hand through it all.