Life Would Be a Dream

I have taken to the quiet of late.

Maybe it's because I need the refreshing, or maybe it's because I'm greedy.  I just need to get away from the ever-crushing weight of human contact.  There are times when I feel as if I'm drowning in a sea of people, going down for the last time.

And when I hit bottom I will explode into a million shards of glass that will cut you until you bleed.

It's happened before.

I know when it's coming on.  Usually when the seasons change something stirs inside me, longing for solitude.  Peace.  A few days away from everyone and everything.  A time to be alone with God and to let Him wash over me, stilling my soul and all the unrest that lives inside me as only He can do.

The cabin is where I'd most like to be during these times.  And so I go there.  But since it has yet to be built, and likely never will, I have to content myself with the mental vacation it can provide.

I dream of settling on on the porch swing to listen to the bobwhites and whippoorwills sing as a soft breeze blows across my face.  I breathe in the fresh air and watch the sun set over the stream that speaks to me as it runs along.  It's Spring now, so there are tulips and daffodils blooming in riotous color explosions that surround the porch.

I write while I'm there, and the words flow out of me like the water flows in the stream.  It seems effortless.  Chapter after chapter of The Great Novel, with almost no effort on my part!

Oh wait...it IS a dream.

Reality beckons.  Dinner must be prepared, and there's laundry to do.

But my little hideaway is there waiting, whenever I can break free.