I'll take my half whole (idea)
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|I was at my friend’s [house]. It was an [autumn] [afternoon] and we were making [cookies]. Her cat was in the window box, next to a few plants that were an intense green, alive with light. Hanging near the window was a strand of multicolored [glass] [beads] that shone so brightly… I stood there, lumping dough onto a cookie sheet while my friend sang [P-Funk] in the background and sent up clouds of evergreen scented [pot smoke] which mixed with the smells of baking and oregano and [dryer sheets]. Suddenly it was a very [homesick] moment. It was not an ache for anyplace I have ever been; just someplace I wanted to get to.|
That night I lay awake plotting my future [garden]. Thinking about color schemes and [cross-pollination], fields of [Echinacea] and [garlic] braided in the kitchen. I dreamt of a place all my own, with a wood burning stove, my own office and a small beagle curled up at the end of my king sized bed. This sudden ache was not really for [material] things, rather a certain feeling of rightness, [wholeness]. A warm, fuzzy place with good smells and vivid colors. Someplace that belonged to me and me alone.
I have modified this [dream] often, but the essence is always the same. I suspect that many people lay awake nights, wondering what the [perfect situation] would be, and that it comes layered in memory-smells and textures that can not be conveyed with words. I guess I have always wanted a [home] that felt like home to anyone who came there, a place I could invite people into, like warm slippers on the feet.