3. Light

I wake up to a late spring Saturday morning in my humble cottage in Europe. I have only lived here about six or seven months, but I have nearly succeeded in making it all that my childhood dreams desired. I plan to be happy here, alone except for my pets, for a few more years; just until that yearning for the soft words of a husband and the loving hands of a child overcomes me.

Today, however, is all mine. I lie in bed for a few more minutes, wondering if my body will let me go back to sleep. It probably would have if Frederick, my hungry little black cat, didn't exist. He leaps on my stomach and crawls over my chest to rub his head against my chin, meowing for food. I comply and lift myself out of bed, cradling him in the crook of my arm. So I lied; what day is ever mine with two cats and a dog that are all just growing out of kitten- and puppy-hood? 

I find the pantry through still-drowsy eyelids, nearly tripping over Percy, Freddie's little brother, and dump a scoop or two in a bowl for them. Fred scrambles to get out of my arms, so I let him down, chuckling. That's when I hear Simon pawing the back door. Somehow he can always tell when the cats are getting their meals. Maybe it's because they grew up together and he knows my routines now. I open the door and he impatiently waits for me to give him permission to actually come in. He's learning, but he's still got that puppy in him. His tail goes wild when I make him wait.

Relenting, I give him the signal and he dashes in, all decorum forgotten. He heads for the cats' dish before I can even yell, but I catch him soon enough and give him the equivalent of a five second time out. Then his dish comes out and he's satisfied for a time.

I leave them to their breakfast and open the curtains in the sitting room. Before I even get them all the way open I can feel the warmth of the sun, which I haven't seen come out more than twice since the first month after I moved here from the States. It had rained during the night; I can see it in the fog far in the distance and the water drops left on my lush green garden. The eye of the storm. I open the window and feel the chilly breeze, but the sun's breath, warm and refreshing, is in it. I can feel its light.

The light illuminates my giant wall of a library; rows and rows of books that I fear I will never have enough time to read. In the corner is my plump pinstripe Roman sofa and beside it a number of shoes that I've left there from previous excursions into the world of literature. And next to the window, opposite the wall of books, is my beautiful, old upright piano. There's two cushions on top for Fred and Percy and on the floor beside it is a bigger one for Simon. The moment I tickle those ivories, they rush to my side, eager to share in the moment. Simon rests his head on my piano bench, his wet nose soaking a little spot in my pajama pants; Percy reclines on his back, all four limbs in the air, twitching every time Fred's tail touches his face. I bet we make quite a portrait.

Today is my day–mine and Frederick's and Percy's and Simon's–and that means music. Music and light and thoughts of beauty.


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Guess I lied in saying that #3 would come when NaNoWriMo was over. 
We were reading Walden in English class today and I considered his proposal to step back and take a day all for yourself with no obligations whatsoever. This image is what came to mind. It really is the home I picture for myself in the future; although, granted, there's gonna be two dozen more instruments and pets thrown in.
I had a bit of a scare with it though, when my mom closed out of the internet after I had minimized this one. Luckily blogger is soooooo beautifully helpful and saves things even when you don't realize it.