I've always been prone to daydreaming.
I doodled my daydreams in school
and covered my notes with drawings.
I made up stories to entertain myself
on the monotonous and Texas-hot bus rides home.
And I distinctly remember lying wide awake in my bed at night
imagining what it would be like when I got married...
in a castle...
to a prince...
in a HUGE fluffy white dress...
I also built teeny tiny worlds in the dirt in my backyard
for fairies that I hoped lived there during the night.
Later, I matured a bit,
and imagined things like my future home;
a yellow kitchen,
an over all pottery-barn-esque vibe,
all in a little white cottage
with a blue door.
In college my thoughts would wander
amidst lectures on adolescent development and such,
to traveling the world.
I'd plan in my head
what I'd wear
and eat
and see
and do,
everywhere from Greece
to Brazil
to Japan
to Alaska.
But always,
alongside all of that,
I've daydreamed about raising kids.
It used to be that I'd get lost in the thought of
building the most rad tree house with them
and playing imaginary games in the backyard,
but now,
seriously,
this is what my daydreams consist of:
I saw this today on my favorite blog
and thought,
"That's it!
That's the happy place I go to in my head
when work and life gets crazy;
marchin' around NYC with little babies!"
Hahaha!
I'm so weird, I know.
That would be so crazy and hard.
Little kids are hard to tote about
and NYC is crazy to get around.
Wanting to combine them is nuts.
But that's my daydream.
That's my wish.
Future husband please take note.
Thankful for:
Massage chairs at the dentist,
and getting my little brothers and sister
as hooked on "Once Upon a Time"
as I am.
Also, stellar, uplifting, love-filled
conversations.
