What I want:

I want my life to be full of color. I want the brightest colors to light my path. I want a green door and a yellow mailbox. I want my lamp to have a purple light bulb. I want music to push me around. I want the notes to urge my steps, helping me do the dishes and vacuum the halls.  I want the notes to come from the artists and from me. I want music always whispering to me, “Dance. Sing.”

I want a treehouse with a bookshelf and a two-person sleeping bag. I want a lantern to light the words on the page. I want books. Real books. Not a tablet with ePages and ePapercuts. I want REAL papercuts. I want to read poetry and hate it. I want a rope ladder to climb into my treehouse. I want to have sleepovers in that treehouse with my family, my kids, my grandkids. I want to have dogs that we pull up into the treehouse in a basket pulley-system.

I want to observe people. I want to come closer to the truth about us all, about human nature. Nature? Nurture? Does it matter? I want to befriend the elderly, the homeless. I want to ask them about their scars and hear their stories. I want to talk to and understand millions. I want their lives to change me. I want to change. I want to listen more than talk. I already know that.

I want my life to be present in my bones. I want you to be able to say, “She loved riding horses and playing lacrosse. She loved eating peanut butter. She loved playing basketball, look at that finger. She hated the cold and the hot but lived through both. She did not like seafood. She wrote. A lot. A blog maybe? She got migraines too. ”

I want to believe in angels and demons and ghosts and fairies and Peter Pan and Neverland. I want to reread Harry Potter every year with my family. I want them to believe in it. Put their hearts in it. I want to knock on wood and change paths when I see a black cat. I want to believe in reincarnation and talking animals.

I want to get mad and say mean things about people. I want to mean those things but have it not even matter. I want to hate things about people but love them unconditionally anyways. I want to be able to cry…hard and then get up the next morning and make others smile.

I want to never experience -45 degrees again. I want to remember Wyoming with fondness and a little pity and awe. I want to hate football and not care because others love it and I can share with them.

I want to go the extra mile but have it go unnoticed. I want to create light and life. I want to have nothing left at the end of my life. I want to die at 73. 75 at the latest unless there is something greater here than what awaits us all. I want to be sure in this life and not wait until the next. I want to hear, “Well done thou good and faithful servant.”

I want to not give a damn and I want people to not care that I don’t care. I don’t care. Stop caring. Let me have my purple lights, green door and yellow mailbox. I want people to mind their own business but notice when someone needs a hand. These are a few of the things I want.