I will one day live in a home on the edge of a forest, warm enough in the Summertime to stand shaded in the tall trees and be grateful for the relief, and cool enough in the Wintertime to see them dusted with white.
By day I will make mild curries, throwing vegetables grown in my garden in to a big crockery pot, watching it bubble away for hours as it infuses my home with fragrant excitement. Come the evening hours, and fresh chamomile and leaves of mint will fill my favourite mauve mug, before boiling water releases all the flavours like it’s July 4th in tea land.
There will be a room just for making things- craft and artworks to gift to friends, and to decorate the world in other ways too. Piles of mismatched fabrics and a basket of colourful threads will sit on a thick wooden shelf on the wall, and my sewing machine will have a table all to itself.
I will have a dog that is allowed inside, on the couch, and on the bed too. A little bit of dog fur never hurt anyone. I will have a cat too, or maybe two, that will hide amongst the poppy stems and leave tiny feline footprints on the sandy driveway.
Inside those walls I will master the viola, and I will practice scales and arpeggios every day until my fingers blister and the patterns are imprinted into my short and long term physical memory. My fine motor skills will increase exponentially and I will think in bowing techniques, and will compare the prices of my groceries, with the price of rosin, as I shop.
Yes that’s what I’d like, and that's what I'll have, all of those things.