Alive

Tanya and I went walking by the water. We gave wistful looks at some of the lovely big abodes. Can you imagine rolling out of your king sized bed in the morning, throwing on a silk robe, fixing a latte on your granite countertops while sun streams through the skylights, then stretching out on your wooden lawn chair on the patio as the waves beat the shore? Pure bliss. Or I could do with a cabin on the inlet in Sechelt, waking up from a stealthy sleep in solid blackness to a crisp morning, wrapping a wool blanket around myself, grabbing a strong coffee and sitting on a rickety chair on the porch with my hubby and cat, looking over the smooth water to layer upon layer of mountain peaks. I like to dream cause it means I’m alive and kicking. I am a paper bag princess. I am an underdog marathon winner, strong and tall. I’m a lottery winner. I’m the heroine spy in a brutal war. I’m the spirited first lady. Yes, good things are inevitable for this wide-eyed, wading girl, ankle deep in the good life.

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