Last night, husband and i sitting at opposite ends of the couch, my feet wrapped around his legs. It’s 10 pm and we’re both … wait for it … reading. I’m reading jason vale’s book, and he’s (finally) reading the second stieg larssson book. The big floor-to-ceiling windows are open because it’s summer and a warm evening.
The last time we sat together on a friday night on the couch reading?
Maybe you had this experience as a kid, because maybe you had a completely fucked up childhood too. did you ever have the experience of trick-or-treating, or of driving by other people’s homes, and just getting the tiniest, thinnest glimpse inside, and instantly have a deep feeling of jealousy? i’d see a bit of someone’s living room, it looked tidy, nice couch, dim lighting, someone sitting in a chair reading … and i’d want them to adopt me. I want to live here, I’d think.
Or as an adult, driving through a neighborhood, brief glances into living room windows, i’d feel terribly jealous that i don’t live there. or there. or there. They’re all having such nice lives in there, I’d imagine. I wish i could go to bed and wake up in THAT life.
well last night, maybe for the first time in my entire life, i was having one of those moments that i used to feel jealous about.
i crawled right into the postcard ‘ideal’ life that i’ve been pining for. quiet people, together, having shared quiet time, in a clean home – no yelling, no cigarette smoke, no clutter, no chaos, no alcohol, no screaming. Nice yellow light, couple on the couch together. Reading.