I live simply. I try to. But sometimes I still feel I have too much STUFF. It makes things feel hectic.
All I want in life is a place to call my very own. And that doesn’t mean going out and just buying any house for cause or tax deduction.
I want a HOME. Something I’ll have til the end of my days. And it must already be old. A farmhouse would be perfect. One with two floors and an old dark basement. Pictures would fill the walls and wooden floors would lead into every room. I’d be able to see my garden from the kitchen window, and I’d have a long porch to nap on. Or dance on. Or watch fireflies from.
It’s the only thing I want in life. That’s it, nothing more. And, if it takes ten or twenty more years to find just the right home, I will wait. And then it will be mine. And I will rest.