I Dream

Of sunshine pouring through the window, riding a light breeze filled with the laughter of my children. I'm sitting on the couch next to my mother, cookies in the oven, working on my hardanger skills.

Of walking down the village streets of India and running my fingers over yards of the most brilliantly colored fabric. I close my eyes and try to sort through the many fragrances that wrap my senses.

Of winter afternoon whiteouts, safe at home. I curl up in a blanket and drift in and out of gloriously imaginative pages of swashbuckling, dark, and romantic novels and the sleepy-wakefullness of an early morning.

Of reasons to get ridiculously gussied up. I put perfume on for the third time breathe deeply as I shake my head back and forth--my long earrings and golden locks brush my shoulders in an ever-so-gentle manner as the scent recalls a lifetime of memories.

Of a zebra kicking up dust across the African Savanna with tips of golden grain chasing his heels. I carefully select the right lens before capturing a perfect image.

Of taking a very small grandchild to the theater. We both giggle in excitement.

Of late nights with him. I would just lay with his arms around me--the most secure feeling in the world--as he ran his fingers through my hair.

I dream.