The Day To Come.
I wake up whenever I like, but generally I like to be up around 6:30 or 7am. Often the boyfriend is already up working on his own in his studio or at some other project. Our room isn’t huge, it’s quaint with awkward ceilings, earthy coloured curtains cover the windows and light starts to creep in. The bed is made of old wood, handcrafted by someone we know. The bed has old quilts from the 40’s and 50’s cosy blankets with lots of weight and history to them.
The floor is hardwood and I step lightly over a sleeping dog onto a simple rug. The house is quiet as I head towards the kitchen down a long hallway lined with bookshelves to the ceiling, both of us have a borderline obsession with collecting books, but we make sure to make room for them in the house.
The home is old and lived in, full of art from friends and creations of our own. Artifacts from travels abroad and Canadian folk art litter the space. The kitchen is downstairs and I take my time making loose leaf tea and placing it into an old clay teapot. I look through the mail and find a letter from my family members, its full of images of newborn babies. I smile, even though I have no children of my own, nor do I want any I understand the joy they bring to others’ lives and I am glad for them.
After my tea and some time watching out the window at a snowy back yard, birdseed speckled across the snow drifts, I make my way back upstairs, past my boyfriend’s studio, where I know he is either reading, meditating or working on something for a client.
My studio place is already warm; the chimney comes through my room from the fireplace down stairs where my partner has lit a fire, I’m so thankful for his early bird tendencies. We each have our own space for creating, reading, writing, meditating. My room has white walls, and a lot of plants, more books piled around, an old drafting table with my pencils and paints, washes and brushes, above the desk are photographs of inspirational people, Amma, Ram Das, etc. Near the window is a glistening puja table, with more images of Saints and Family, flowers in small cups of water, candles, branches, crystals and sage, here I come to sit in silence. I stay here for about 30 minutes, working on whatever it is I feel needs paying attention to, letting go, receiving, opening up to, forgiving, and creative visualization.
Around 8:30 am the BF and I meet for breakfast, to talk about our dreams and the coming day, he’s off to help some neighbours with something on their farm and I’ve decided to stay home and get some work done for a project I’m working on. We decide on a healthy breakfast with fresh green juices, and hearty breakfast soup, we try to eat with the seasons and also cook with a lot of macrobiotic and raw vegan, but neither of us are completely vegan or raw, preferring to refrain from labels and enjoy the freedom of not being THIS or THAT, rather following our bodies instincts.
Working from home grants me the pleasure of wearing whatever I want so it’s often comfortable jeans and a warm sweater, I head out with the dog and a big tea , wrapped in a warm wool coat I take a short walk to the nearby market where they sell local meats, I pick out a beautiful roast and some more root veggies, we are having a small dinner party tonight, so I’ll need some wine as well. I talk to some familiar faces in the town and head home, after putting the food away, I head to my studio and the dog follows, taking her spot at my feet on a blanket. Here I work for the next few hours on project Ideas for a book cover for an up a coming young writer in the city. The work is rewarding as the client and I share a similar vision. The book was amazing and I know exactly where I am going with the cover. After that I do a bit of work on a small print piece I’m working on, it’s not due for a few weeks but I enjoy having projects completed beforehand.
A friend calls me and invites me into the city for a mutual friend’s birthday party. I agree to come and will take the train into the city in a couple weeks. After the call I go back to my room and work for a short time on a book project I’m doing on my own. It’s something geared towards the self-help/inspiration community but also targeted to young people.
Another call, it’s the BF asking if he needs to bring anything home he has the truck today, not his bike so toilet paper is okay, we laugh and he says he will be home soon to help prepare supper.
Around 4 my neighbour stops by to ask if I’ll be around in the coming week. I say yes and she asks if I would be able to take care of her dogs while she is away on a vacation. I assure her it is no trouble and tell her I’m not off again until after Xmas (India).
The BF arrives home and takes off his clothes in the hallway, sawdust and dirt fall on the floor and I laugh at him as he heads towards the bathroom to shower. We both have our faults, his is dirty clothes on the floor, mine is not throwing empty boxes of cereal away. But we don’t sweat the small stuff. When he comes into the kitchen later, smelling of natural soaps, he kisses me and we talk about our day, laughing at each other, he scrubs potatoes and peels carrots as I pour us both a mug of wine. After I put the roast in the oven and set the table he shoo’s me out of the kitchen assuring me he has a handle on things, and I know he does, amazing cook that he is.
On my way to the bathroom I hear him turn the record player on, he’s got Cole Porter on again, I smile as I hear him break into song “Even educated fleas do it!” he sings. He reminds me of a slightly less nervous Woody Allen, quirky with lots of joy in his blood.
I hear our guests arriving as I head down the stairs, I greet them at the door, our neighbours, craftsmen, artists, farmers, a friend who has brought a first date, an old married couple, everyone is rosy and cold kissed, and glad to be in our warm home, the dog slipping in and out of peoples legs.
During supper, the BF and I look at each other over candles and gourds, both remembering how thankful we are. We all share stories and the wine flows as easily as the conversation. Around 11 o’clock everyone is leaving, and as our final guests leave, we both flop onto the couch, smiling at the cats curled up near the wood stove. The phone rings and it’s my mother making one of her late night calls, she talks about my brothers new baby and her boyfriend and the house, and I assure her I’ll call back tomorrow, but tonight we had a dinner party and are quite tired, she says hello to the BF on the phone quickly and they share a laugh over something I have no clue about, he winks at me.
The dog needs a walk so he takes her out to the yard as I get into bed. When he joins me, his toes are cold and we push and shove each other laughing about it. I’ve already been reading for a bit, and he takes out his book (or kindle J ) but after a few minutes he looks over at me and says “Too tired!” he flicks off his lamp and cuddles up next to me, I put my hand in his hair and twist it around my fingers, he kisses my chest and closes his eyes. I close my book, cuddling is much more enticing. My light goes out and we are there cuddling and warm, I think about how happy I am, I think about my trip to India in a few months, I think of the beauty of the man next to me, the love of my family, and I think about how happy I am that I wrote this all down such a short time ago in a journal in my mom’s house, when none of it existed, but I knew in my soul it would someday.
