I was feeling a little melancholy.

I awoke with lots to do – but after a night of tossing and turning and dreaming of old love and new love – cats and snakes – I decided to ease gently into the day with coffee, breakfast  and a movie in bed.

The movie was ‘One Day’ a sweet romantic drama about a long-awaited love coming to fruition.  Their story took years – but having waited 17 months to be in my love’s arms – I related on an emotional level.

I was still in my pajamas – went outside to sip my coffeebefore the desert sun claimed that side of the house, and looked down at the deck.

I imagined myself in France or Italy, some small provincial town.  On a little patio, with coffee in hand – perhaps the aroma of  herbs and flowers drifting past me in a light breeze.

I imagined grass and gardens and quaint countryside.

I imagined going back inside and seeing my little home – a window seat next to piles of books.  Mismatched colorful pillows and copious amounts of fragrant candles, a tea kettle on the stove and a lazy cat sunning itself  on a comfortable chair.  Classical music filling every room as I padded bare foot with my coffee back to the bedroom.

I snapped back to reality when sirens sounded in the distance – had my usual ‘I hope no one is too badly hurt’ thought then returned to the whorls in the wood.

I could be sitting on any deck if I set my mind to it.  This was the thought I carried inside clutching my coffee – as I padded bare foot past my reality.

Herbs are present – in planters that take up the whole of my dining room table.  The rest of my home … well – it’s a rental and I think of it as a sufficient ‘shell’.

Nothing about it says ‘me’ except – inside, there has been so much love and so much laughter with my son.

This shell has seen me become humble and grateful.

Soon my love will be stepping through the very door I daydreamed through.

I’m anxious about the interior’s appearance.

My list of things to do consists of, once again, preparing the superficial to a degree of a satisfactory first impression.

An impossible task considering what i have to work with.

I hung new curtains in my bedroom and hated them.  I told him so.

His response:

“If you hate them, why do you use them?  OMG – ladies.   I will have you, not your curtains”

It made me laugh.

And of course he’s right.  And I’m wise enough to know the material things don’t matter, but I care about the shell being tidy and welcoming.

The curtains are lovely, but I refer to them as ‘the stupid curtains’ – mostly because they represent the silly need I feel to have objects make an impression.

As we skyped, and laughed today – while my very real dog barked from my comfortable sofa, I knew once we were looking at that deck – that whorl – together – nothing else would matter.

Especially not the stupid curtains.