A small cottage on the edge of the forest is where I want to be..A place where the air is clean and the view is like no other, inspiring me to write the words I've chosen to be shared. There would be a bubbling brook to help me keep the rhythm flowing through my mind as I begin the making of a story.
There would be acres of wildflowers blowing back and forth to the music only they could hear, and the leaves of the trees would join them, some falling to the ground in a dramatic climax.
I can picture myself perched on the front porch, one leg on the floor and the other on the rail, with a pencil in my mouth chewed on like a dog's bone. Dressed in the clothes of that time, not to be fashionable but comfortable. Leather shoes and a button-down shirt, freshly ironed and creased trousers, all create in my mind what I'd look like if I were to become a character in my own story.
Perhaps I'm living a country life, a man with sandpaper hands and a deep love for the earth, or a woodsman who harvests trees. Maybe a maple syrup farmer who tapped the trees and brought great pleasure to those having pancakes for breakfast.
However, I choose to live alone, as past experiences have shown me that no two people will get along forever, and if they do, then they deserve a chapter or two before I bid them a forever farewell.
I would cherish my time in the small cottage, welcoming the changes of the seasons and all they bring to the cravings of my mind that call upon me to write. Even the smell of the cottage, with its wooden walls and drafty floorboards, would soothe me as I write from the soft glow of a lantern hissing just beside me.
There were no expectations of a best-selling book, not even a hope that it would be read. It was a story I'll take with me as I venture down the mountain, happy and proud that I was still able to chew on a pencil and create a story, if only for my own eyes.
Mike 2025
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