I want chickens.
And a screen door that goes THWACK and bounces – bomp.bomp.bomp – three whole times before it’s finally closed.
And a sleeping porch that’s a little uneven & rough beneath my feet, with a bed full of down pillows that hug me when I sleep.
I want open windows and an attic fan pulling the smell of love and sweat and home through every inch of my house.
I want laundry dancing on the line, and sunshine warming more than just clothes.
I want music and laughter to be the soundtrack of our days.
And our nights.

I want to toss out all the clocks and let sunrise and sunset guide our days.
I want to sit on the front porch in rocking chairs just watching time pass.
I want to listen to the cricket and frog symphony as dusk fades to dark.
And maybe, sitting in the darkness, sing a hymn or two with a quiet guitar.

I want chickens.

Is that too much to ask?