Exchanging Texas for New England
After fifty-plus years of living in Texas, I yearn to return to the land of my beginnings. I want to experience once again, the distinct differences of each season. There is something breath-taking about that flush of Spring’s arrival when everywhere you look, trees are bursting into bloom, reminding one of a covey of bridesmaids. Or the intense richness of fall’s color show as hillsides are swept in reds and oranges.
I dream of occupying one of those cozy cottages along the New England coastline, something within walking distance of the shore. I envision a tidy nest with piles of books strewn about its simple but comfortable furnishings. A worn sofa long enough to stretch out upon for an afternoon nap.
Sunny days will be spent walking a sandy beach beside a never-still ocean. Or I'll nestle in a rock outcropping, soaking up sunshine and being occasionally misted by spray. Overhead, whirling and dipping sea gulls will entertain with their acrobatics, their harsh-sounding calls like music to my ears. I envision myself seated on a washed-up trunk from a distant shore, watching moonlight glitter on the water.
Long dreary winter months I will fill with lazy days curled into a lounge chair beside a flickering fire. There I will fill pages and pages of my journal, jotting down glimpses of old memories as they flash upon the screen of my mind. When I choose, I will lose myself within the pages of a book's imaginary world. Or I may occupy myself in my craft room, piecing a quilt or dabbling with oils If I become bored, just a short drive down an uncluttered road are shops and museum to enliven my days.
Some people foresee their retirement as a time to travel the world or cruise to exotic places. I long for a life of simple pleasures, a gentle sun upon my face, a patch of earth to dig in and the ever-changing drama of an ocean’s tide reminding me of my brief interim on this earth and the need to make the most of every day.