The Sound of Sunshine

I have a powerful craving for sunshine and sand, a hunger for clear blue water and warm, clear skies. I want to give the breeze a kiss, and feel the earth rise up around my ankles. This frigid north is as dear to my heart as any lover, but I feel like the cold has already seeped into my flesh. I think a warmer climate would do me some good.

I ache, sometimes, for the south. There has always been something...pleasant about it. The people are no better or worse than anywhere else, the politics and social ballet is the same, but I've always held that place in an esteem all its own. Life there doesn't seem to carry the same kinds of consequences it does here. I never felt the need to hurry when the sun beat down on the sandhills of Carolina. I never wanted for anything, running barefoot through backyards in a warm, Georgia November.

I'd like to pass some days of my life there, I think. The endless mountain vistas here have me captured, have always drawn me back to the banks of the Hudson. I want to die here, an old man being laid to rest in the frozen ground as all my ancestors have been. I want to wander the snowy woods until a warrior greater than I places the challenge and cuts me from this world. I want to leave a crimson stain in pristine white and breathe my last with weapon in hand, before I set off sure-footed toward Valhalla.

But until then, I want to play the banjo on the beach. I want to drink by the fire and tell stories of the most glorious days until well-after sunrise. I want to cool my sunburned skin in the sea, and watch lightning playing out across the waves at night when Thor is pleased. I want to wake each morning feeling younger than the day before. I want to take lovers to my bed and, tomorrow night, have another companion beside my fire. I want to throw my shoes in a closet, give my suits to a homeless man, and wear the same pair of jeans every day. I want to grow my beard until it touches my waist, and never want for a single dollar again.

I want to live, like no man has ever wanted anything.

Blissfully Yours,
-S.R.