I want

July 7, 2009 at 3:12 pm (favs, future, in my head)

A weekend in a hotel room overlooking a cold beach. A crisp glass of white, giggles, lingering kisses on my shoulders, rolled-up jeans, and wearing one of his sweaters in the evening.

A dog to come home to. A wagging tail and barking at the doorbell and an adorable little face that couldn’t be more excited I’m home.

A studio apartment with exposed brick or a bay window or Victorian details. A small table set with my mother’s black glass goblets and fresh cut hydrangeas. The smell of lemon and tarragon. Three friends on their way over.

Late night study sessions with baked goods. And Pirate’s Booty. And index cards full of research notes. College-ruled notebooks. Lucky pens. Falling asleep with a photocopied article on my chest and a highlighter in my hand.

The sharp edges of a mountain, the smoky burn of bourbon hitting bottom, cashmere, tomato soup, tiny white lights, and the smell of pine. A dance party in the kitchen. Extra-soft cotton pajama sets. Extravagantly priced winter strawberries.

Time to explore a new city. With minarets and soft cheeses. With folks speaking in languages I don’t know and dialects I’d never be able to learn. With fabrics in ochre and oxblood. With a rhythm that jumps about and weaves its way into my limbs.






  1. Katie said,

    That sounds absolutely beautiful.

  2. Bridget said,


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