Hope

I want to wake up in a beautiful cabin in the middle of the woods, with only the rustle of the leaves and the breaking of branches as my company. I want to walk out of the porch and be able to smile and say I’m home. I want to hear creaks on the floor anticipating his touch. I want his arms around me, his neck on my shoulder, as we sway to the music of the forest. A morning routine that never seems like one because every time it happens, it sends shivers down my spine and a smile on my face. And the smile is never fake. It is never forced. It is real. It is genuine. It is mine.

If he decides he’s had enough, I want to turn around to see another man waiting for me by my favorite tree, leaning with a smirk that matches his slanted body. I want to be able to write anything I want, listen to Otis Redding and Ray Charles and have a man beside me that comes home with dinner. He always gets at least a four pointer and it lasts us at least a week. I want simplicity since my mind cannot seem to settle down, or even define the word without over thinking its meaning. I want a life that doesn’t consist of financial troubles. I want to live off the land, and have that first man build an amazing cabin for us, that never needs improvements other than the annual spring-cleaning. I want to wear simple white dresses in the day and nightgowns to bed. I want my hair in a messy bun. I want to be barefoot. I want to be free from any underwear or bra. I want to be loved for all of this.

I want to write on a typewriter so that he can hear the echo of my words as he walks home dragging our dinner. So that he can smile knowing I’m there waiting for him. That he can be excited to be home after a day of hunting for us. To appreciate the life he has, and the woman he loves. To walk in and tell me how beautiful I look even if I wear the same thing everyday.

I want to sit outside and watch him cut the deer in half, slice the skin off intricately, as if it was an art form in action. I want to talk about nothing and everything as I absorb his presence. I want him to lick his lips when he works and take a peak over to me as I write in my notepad that consists of only him. I want him to smile at me and go back to work. I want to set the table outside, the wood table that we made together. It took weeks to perfect but our time together was never wasted. Is never wasted.

And I want to make love to him. I want to look at him the whole time. I want my hair to get in the way and I want him to slide the strands behind my ear because he wants to see me too. I want us to embrace as we become one. And kiss, sending love letters inside each other’s mouths with every breath. I want to end and trace his back, watching it rise and fall quickly at first and then simmer into the night. I want him to stop me and tell me it’s his turn. I want him to tell me how smooth my skin is. I want to feel his rough fingers trace a contorted line along my spine. I want to fall asleep to this.

I want things that probably will never happen. But hope keeps me alive.

“Remember Red, hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies.”