This place is ideal really. Really it is. My landlord lives in a house on the upper end of the property a mile away. My house is rustic and there's a smaller shed structure about 500 feet away down near to the small lake below. I call it the Writer's Cottage. It's a perfect place to be alone with my thoughts and to do the writing I never had the time or space to do before.
I feel like I have it all and yet I have a strange dis-ease about things. I am not sure I am adjusting here. The house is great. The job is fine. The people in town are friendly. I talk to my parents who are very supportive and I talk with my friends back in the city. I have my privacy and help is a mile away if I need it.
The pace is very different here. It's screams to me HOW QUIET IT IS!!!!
Thoreau's book WALDEN is on the shelf in the livingroom. I suppose the landlord left it here to provide ambience. There's an old soft leather bible here too, and a few other well-worn books. I take Walden off the shelf and thumb through it. I don't know HOW Henry David could LIVE that way for so long, so long ago. I don't understand it. I could never do it! I can't even get through his book! I guess he was in Massachusetts somewhere. These places all feel the same.
What's missing? What's wrong with me?
I miss my life. I don't know what this is that I am living, but this life, it's not mine!
YOU ARE READING
Life Is The School Love Is The Lesson
RomanceAfter years of being successfully single and floundering in love, Sarah meets a man who turns her world upside down. He gives her many opportunities to question his intentions, to doubt her trust in him and to question her faith in herself. CAN he...
