(escapril, day 16: any dreams?)

I dream of simple things.

A white-washed house, surrounded by flowers,

A window to let the sun shine in.

Downy heads laughing and dashing about in the garden,

Chubby, smiling cheeks and bright, honest souls.

Calling them in for lunch,

Fresh vegetables and crusty bread and new milk.

Filling my cupped hands with fresh, clean water,

Letting my bare skin feel the unchained, unmolded wave of life,

Cool and clear and achingly sweet.

Someone to hold my hand on long, unhurried walks.

Growing old together, growing softer.

Nights by the fire. Reading, working, playing, quietly together.

Whole-hearted contentment.