tonight i was thinking that if i got a terminal illness,
i should very much like to spend the rest of my days in a little cottage
just outside of the middle of nowhere.
someplace really small and charming and completely lovely.
there would be a garden, and a little stream, and trees with endless shade.
and nearby, close enough to walk to, a little pond.
perfect for swimming in.
and i would spend my days thinking, and writing, and gardening, and reading.
and, of course, swimming in that pond.
and they would be such wonderfully happy days.
with early mornings, and simple meals, and late nights.
and my closest family and friends would occasionally visit.
but only one or two at a time, so as not to break the silent spell of the place.
and they would inevitably fall in love with it,
for it would be cozy and endearing.
all cobblestone and shutters and flowers.
and the days would all be warm and sunny,
except for when it was thundershowers.
and then inside we would discover a brick hearth and roaring fire.
and warm soup, fresh bread and each other would keep ourselves warm.

i asked ryan if he would quit everything to be with me in this place,
should i suffer from such an illness.
he said he would. but only for about 6 months or so.
i think that would be long enough for me.
i think.
and now i wonder why we're waiting for illness.
as though that were the only legitimate excuse for chasing dreams.
so perhaps we'll surprise ourselves and begin tomorrow.
create our quiet place together.
ryan and i.

 
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