There really is not much better in the morning than a hot cup of coffee is there?
I have the East Coast on my brain this morning. A friend is making the long long move from San Francisco to Manhattan next week to work in the fashion industry. Bomb, right? It has brought up all sorts of hopes and dreams I used to have about moving back that way. I say "used to" because, the longer I live this life, the further and further that seems from ever becoming a reality.
I wish I was closer to my little nieces who are impossibly girly and cute and who grow up so fast from this far away it is stunning. I wish I lived in tune with the seasons, like actual seasons with leaves changing and temperatures dropping and storing of summer clothes. I wish I could be back with my people. "My people" because there is simply no explaining away the differences between the people on these opposing coasts. I miss my proper, private, somewhat-cold-but-warm-underneath East Coasters. These Californians, man, they want to tell you everything about themselves when they barely know you (and I do mean everything). As long as I live here, that will never be me.
I wish an old New England cottage with dormer windows was in my future. With windows where the crisp clean end-of-a-fall-day light would stream in. And where we would fall asleep on top of the sheets with the windows flung wide wide open in the hot summers. I wish our future bebies would never experience a Christmas without snow and twinkling lights wrapped around lampposts (Let's face it-the East Coast does Christmas so much better than us it's shameful. All those wreaths and garland, quaint houses and pine trees.).
I wish I wish I wish. Maybe someday the road will take us back there, maybe.
And maybe not.