it probably is.

November 7, 2008

it’s on nights like tonight that i find myself dreaming. it’s as if i don’t really have much control over it – the dreaming – on nights like tonight. the wind is twirling around the house, so much so that the walls seem to be creaking in defense. the rain is hammering down, large raindrops splattering against the window leaving thick wide trails as they travel down the pane. the fire is dancing and crackling, creating a room filled with warmth and comfort. steam rises from my mug, sending autumnal scents wafting through the air. and on nights like tonight my mind floats into a dreamy place saturated with storybook images and romanticized notions. it probably is girlish and silly but i don’t care. i like nights like tonight. and even though it almost seems cruel, i like the intense sense of longing these nights create deep inside me…

on nights like tonight i picture myself in a big ol’ farmhouse, built hundreds of years ago. the house is quiet, and dark. only a few lights are lit throughout it, casting shadows and filling everything with coziness. there is a fire in the woodstove – a real one of sticks and logs and newspaper – and its heat radiates throughout. i’m curled up on the couch, smothered in a blanket. i’m probably writing or reading or simply staring at the flames flicker behind the small square window on the stove. with me in the room is the love of my life. whom i imagine i met later in life…when simplicity had become all i wanted. he smells the way the wind does when it comes rushing through the door on a cool winter morning. the dishwasher drums on quietly in the kitchen, reminding both of us of a meal just shared. we are quiet together, speaking only occasionally of the rain or the wind or the need to chop more firewood soon.

on nights like tonight i imagine myself walking, in warm wool socks, down a hallway of hard wood floors. i stop in a doorway to silently peek into a room lit softly by a half-moon nightlight. i hear the heavy breathing of a small child, and see the outline of her small body under a heavy quilt. the room is warm with her sleep and i tip-toe closer to her bedside. a small stuffed monkey [tattered and worn] lies on the floor. i pick it up and tuck it close by her side.

on nights like tonight i dream of a kitchen noisy with the clanging of pots and the chatter of familiar voices. i imagine a kitchen filled with old friends, the friends we’ve known for what seems like forever. a big ol’ loved dog underfoot. the small children making their way around on the floor serve as delightful entertainment for us, and we could watch them for hours. red wine fills stemless glasses and sloshes as they are picked up and placed down in between laughter. i can smell our meal cooking in the oven.

on nights like tonight i envision us lying in our bed, swallowed up by mounds of covers. breaking the silence, we begin to talk – sleepily and slowly – to one another. the warm summer sun beats down on us through the picture window on the wall, and we talk about what things might be attempted that day. we talk about going to the beach and mowing the lawn. we talk about finally getting those boxes of old stuff out of the garage. we talk about cutting the kids hair and tying up the green bean plants that have gotten out of control in the backyard. we lie there, warm and comfortable, talking about all the ordinary stuff our lives are filled with.

and it probably is silly and girlish, dreaming up these scenes in my mind on nights like this. it seems futile and pathetic to spend time in this fantasy land. but on nights like tonight, i don’t care. alone on evenings like this one i give in to the desire to imagine and hope for imperfectly perfect moments. i cast aside my usual striving to be independent and stoic. for just a moment tonight i allow myself to enter, guilt free, into a world that may or may not exist someday. and i think i have realized that the strongest draw to these thoughts is not their storybook qualities, but rather the small sliver of hope i hold that they could actually be possible.

it probably is girlish and silly…but i honestly don’t care. not on nights like tonight.

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3 Responses to “it probably is.”

  1. ryan said

    thanks for sharing your dreams, Lisa. you paint them so very vividly; they’re a pleasure to read.

  2. ryan thomas said

    thanks schwank.

    let´s do that email thing, i hear it´s sweet.

  3. Lacy Rain said

    It isn’t silly, and I don’t think these fantasies are reserved for girls. It is beautiful and you articulate the dreams of so many of us, even if they don’t look exactly the same. And tell me, were you kind of being inspired by my old cabin in Salt Lake, I am all the time.

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