When I am an old lady
I will live by the sea
in a condo
with a perfectly clean, white couch.
I'll have a bell man named Lars, and my drawers will be organized. My basement too.
All day, I'll sit on my white couch and read.
My walls will be white.
My windows, clean.
Martha Stewart will visit to drink tea with me out of small, China teacups.
But I won't let her talk.
We'll just stare out at the sea.
At the sailboats going by with my sons on board.
Waving.
"Hi, Mom! We love you and we're perfect and handsome and saintly and successful."
I'll have Martha bring them sandwiches on a tray. But I won't let them in.
Cause this condo is mine.
The white couch is mine too.
So clean and quiet like fresh, starched sheets. So clean and quiet like the breeze kicking up my curtains. So clean and quiet like my bright, white couch where I'll sit and read.
When I am an old lady.
3 comments:
This post so closely approaches perfection that I owe YOU some cookies. I love it.
The mailman brought our prize the day before yesterday, and I carefully unwrapped the tape and snagged one while the girls were asleep. I taped it back up, and they had no idea.
They were thrilled, of course. Millie kept saying, "BOY! Aunt Sarah sure does know how to make good cookies! BOY! She is a really good cook."
Annie told John that you probably got some cookies, too, because you won the contest along with them. (She's still convinced of this, and I haven't told her otherwise.)
Susannah and I mostly just munched and dropped crumbs from our mouths because they let me eat a few. I did NOT hog them all like I did their Hallowe'en candy, because they earned these cookies fair and square. (I figured I deserved a share of the Hallowe'en loot because I provided the costumes...)
THANK YOU!
I really, really, really, really hope you're all able to come up for Thanksgiving.
I will give thanks!
Oh, and I'm commenting at midnight because Piper's crazy, not because I want to be awake.
Screw Martha. Save me a seat on that white couch. And white walls?! My word.
Tucker and Pete can have conversations and cloves out on the beach. You and I? We will enjoy the cleanliness and quietness. We won't even have to talk. Unless we want to. About good books.
I'm totally inviting myself into your fantasy. And I'm not a bit sorry about it. :)
Cherie and Abigail,
You both have a seat saved for you on my silent, white couch.
Save me a seat on yours (respectively).
Sarah
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