Since I was about eighteen, I’ve wanted to grow old and settle down in a cabin in the woods and raise chickens. I’ve been thinking about planting a small vegetable garden, drying clothes on a laundry line. I’d like to grow sage. Maybe there’s a creek. There will definitely be stay cats. I want to be able to look up at the stars.
My little sister could have died in a car accident this year, but she didn’t, and now she lives her life in the knowledge that tomorrow is promised to nobody. The family dog occasionally experiences vertigo and can’t get up off the floor. I’ve started to get this dull ache in my joints when it rains. My mother’s hair is salt and pepper grey, and I remember a time when it wasn’t.
I don’t want to wait until I am old.
The plan is to start saving up for the cabin in the woods as soon as possible. I still need to decide where, and how. But I’m going to do it. I’m going to make it happen.
There’s a jar of cash in an undisclosed location, and that’ll do for a start.