She thinks it odd to live so close to a mountain where deer run free because instead of residing in a rustic habitat, she calls a modern condo with 9 foot ceilings and hardwood floors her home. The juxtaposition of her residence and surroundings makes her smile.
She loves the colors of her walls because they remind her of the turquoise blue ocean of St. Thomas. The coral red sofa she bought makes a bold statement against the sea of blue. It tickles her that the first thing people say when they walk into her home is, “Oh! I just love the color of your living room!”
There are a cache of meaningful objects that are scattered about the condo, funky patchwork pillows her sister made, white dishes she received one Christmas, blue and white porcelain collectibles and her ebony Indonesian hutch. The eclectic cottage look would probably define her style to a “t”.
She’s at an age she would like to forget. Every now and then she notices the ever so slight wrinkles forming on her face. Peering into a mirror, she takes the palms of her hands, places them on each side of her face and gently moves them in an upward direction to receive the free face lift. She then releases the upward pull and accepts the reality that passing time has on the human shell.
She lives with a sense of optimism that blankets some self doubt and insecurities. These ailments act as a low grade fever; consequently, they do not appear to be life threatening at this time.
The best thing is for the first time in her life she knows what she wants, a quiet place to be alive…to create… a Spanish style cottage in the hills of any city beginning with the name Santa. She sees herself walking barefoot across the cool red terra cotta tile floors, her white linen see through gown swishes as a breeze from an open window enters the house. She’s not certain what time of year it is, most likely autumn and the night sky is calling her, beckoning her to come outside and greet the sweet air and view the overwhelmingly beautiful evening performance. God is waiting there for her. He asks her if she likes her grass green kitchen cabinets and Mexican tile counter tops. She howls with laughter nodding in the affirmative. All she has to do is believe.
She loves the colors of her walls because they remind her of the turquoise blue ocean of St. Thomas. The coral red sofa she bought makes a bold statement against the sea of blue. It tickles her that the first thing people say when they walk into her home is, “Oh! I just love the color of your living room!”
There are a cache of meaningful objects that are scattered about the condo, funky patchwork pillows her sister made, white dishes she received one Christmas, blue and white porcelain collectibles and her ebony Indonesian hutch. The eclectic cottage look would probably define her style to a “t”.
She’s at an age she would like to forget. Every now and then she notices the ever so slight wrinkles forming on her face. Peering into a mirror, she takes the palms of her hands, places them on each side of her face and gently moves them in an upward direction to receive the free face lift. She then releases the upward pull and accepts the reality that passing time has on the human shell.
She lives with a sense of optimism that blankets some self doubt and insecurities. These ailments act as a low grade fever; consequently, they do not appear to be life threatening at this time.
The best thing is for the first time in her life she knows what she wants, a quiet place to be alive…to create… a Spanish style cottage in the hills of any city beginning with the name Santa. She sees herself walking barefoot across the cool red terra cotta tile floors, her white linen see through gown swishes as a breeze from an open window enters the house. She’s not certain what time of year it is, most likely autumn and the night sky is calling her, beckoning her to come outside and greet the sweet air and view the overwhelmingly beautiful evening performance. God is waiting there for her. He asks her if she likes her grass green kitchen cabinets and Mexican tile counter tops. She howls with laughter nodding in the affirmative. All she has to do is believe.
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