I sit beside the fire and think
Of people long ago
And people that will see a world
That I shall never know
At present, I am trapped between the wonders of the world and the monotone of a home.
I dream of packing lunches for my kids, kissing my husband off to work, and pulling out worms and snails in our little garden. I dream of the smell of roast chicken and mushroom soup as I wait for them to come home, knitting sweaters or maybe painting in the attic.
I also dream of being on the other side of the world, tasting exotic food and age-old wine. I dream of the feel of the wind on my face as I jump off a plane, trusting only the parachute strapped on my body. I dream of being chased by wild bears, as they see me spearing the only salmons in their side of the river.
At the same time, I am afraid to realize any of those dreams. I fear being content and being too happy, because I know in the end there will always be a catch. For now, I’ll just have to choose which of my dreams are worth the catch. I’m still on it.