Autumn is coming.
I can smell it in the air now, windows rolled down in the Subaru, sunroof open. The weather is as flawless as can be and my dreams are huge tonight, less like shooting stars and more like comets.
I know it’s fall because that’s when I dream the most, when the leaves start falling and the colors come to life for just a little while, when all of nature goes out with a bang before hitting its final resting place. That is when my dreams come to life.
Sometimes my dreams are big and extravagant and complicated, but sometimes they’re very very simple. And that’s how my dreams are tonight.
Someday I want to live in New York City.
I want to wake up early to the honking of traffic on the busy streets, make myself a cup of tea and just listen for a little while, take it all in.
I want a little apartment on the 40th floor, high above the streets, made out of brick and well-loved.
I love NYC. It’s crazy and alive and a little bit dangerous, which feels right somehow. And I doubt that I’d live there forever, but when you’re young you don’t have to take root right away: you can skip around a little bit, live in different places, try different tastes and worlds and discover what you like.
But there’s just something about New York.
I want to write, hard and often. I want to pour out my soul, my honesty, forever and ever and I don’t ever want to stop. I hope I never forget how it feels to press a pen to paper, to re-read something I pressed my heart into years later and remember how it feels after a job done well.
I want to wear hats and laugh a lot and see the city at all hours of the night, and I want to go to those little fancy restaurants where they line the power lines with white christmas lights.
I want to grab coffee with people I meet on the street, hear their stories, make them laugh. And I want to live life like it doesn’t last, like every day matters, like I have to spend it living.
Like I couldn’t, can’t, won’t live my life behind a desk or a cubicle. I’d rather be poor than lose those minutes doing something that doesn’t mean anything.
I’d like to eat with people I love often, pass the corn and butter and laugh and tell stories and have seconds. I think there’s something about eating with people you love, grabbing a late night snack with a friend or early morning tea. It doesn’t have to be much, but food with people is so much better than food alone.
Wherever I am, I’d like to be with him. Maybe he’ll laugh a lot or maybe he’ll be quiet and steady. Maybe he’ll be the first to offer a roadtrip, or maybe I’ll be dragging him out of bed at 6am to hop in the car to who-knows-where. But maybe, just maybe, he’ll find me charming.
And I sure hope he knows how to laugh because I think we’ll do it often.
And tonight it’s just dreaming, but one day it’ll be something more. And I think my dreams will add up to something, the day I can do something about them.
And when that day comes, it’ll be nice to know what I’ve been dreaming of.