if i were a house, i would be an old English cottage, with a pretty cottage garden full of flowers and herbs. and tall trees behind me. no doubt the floorboards would creak, and the window panes would rattle maddeningly in the wind.
i’d be warmed by over-sized fireplaces in every room; the kind that barely take the chill off you until tea-time, and then you sit too close and roast your fingertips and socks, sipping hot chocolate from a large chipped mug.
if i were a time of day, i would be midnight. dark, quiet, still, and no-one to bother me. friend only to foxes, toads and bats. and the moon, the mystical moon.
if i were the photographer i wanted to be, my pictures would look like Tim Walker’s. magical recreations of bygone English days, carrying the echo of childhood games and tales. wild hedgerows and lakes at sunset, and oversized furniture in quaint stately homes, with tents in the library and a horse in the parlour, and a vintage motorbike in the hall.
if i were young again, i would tell myself to be more confident, and to go wildly and freely in the direction of my dreams. i would tell everyone else who had ideas about what my life should be like to bugger off.
if i were a poem, i would be something sensual and erotic like, “carnal apple, woman filled, burning moon,” or, “a lemon,” by Pablo Neruda. these poems remind me of how my dear Toni Brown writes, too.
if i were my own ideal of female beauty, i would be almost as curvaceous as i am now, but more confident and devil-may-care about it all. i would be just as dark as i am, but with less damn blasted plucking, tweezing and waxing to have to keep up with. i would have legs that stretched another inch or two longer, and breasts that stayed perky and full, instead of threatening their southward trend as i age.
if i were a window, i would frame a breathtaking view, of mountains, or the sea. and lots of sky. endless sky.
if i were a book, i would be something long, intense and engaging, that you would never, ever forget. though you may regret! ha ha. perhaps the twist in the tale was a slight disappointment. perhaps you’d hoped for a different outcome, a happy ending, but that’s not what you got. like this one.
what would you be, if..?
{this piece was not my own idea. i read this at Sarah’s place today, and thought I’d try writing a version of my own. but go read Sarah’s, no, you must. it is beautiful}
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oddly, i feel like crying….not for sadness, mind you – although perhaps just a little..wistfulness, maybe?
you are gathering strength, Dear One….i feel it in your words…..
our houses look much the same…
xoxoxo
crying, yes. perhaps I know what you mean.
I so much wanted to have a go at this piece, after I read Sarah’s. But then, as I approached the doing of it, there was a sense of something retreating inside me, like I didn’t really want to look at these things that I might be. Or perhaps because it meant looking at the things I would like my life to be like, by the very nature of describing what it is, which is not what I wish it would be like.
Now that’s a very muddled statement to try to understand!
I mean, maybe I don’t really want to be a solid old English house. Maybe I want to be an old Queenslander, with a 360-verandah, and eucalyptus gums in the garden. Or maybe I want to be a yurt on a hill somewhere. Or even a fashionable modern pad in the city. But I am what I am, n’est-ce pas?
you contain multitudes….;)
i was pondering a post such as this while i was out walking the dogs…and i came to exactly the same conclusion as you — the images and thoughts i was having were closer to what i would like them to be — rather than what they are. or maybe they *are* me really — the under-all-the-shite me, y’know? yes, so muddled it is…:)
xoxoxo
I love what you wrote here – the longing and the vulnerability and the wonderful strength. I especially love that you wanted to be what you are but with more self-appreciation (and a few tweaks!) To me, that’s utterly awesome.
Thank you so much for playing alone with my little game. I’m off now to add your weblog to my reading list
After all, anyone mel likes has to be a good sort!
Thanks, Sarah. And thank you for the inspiration. I’m glad you didn’t mind me adopting your idea.
Yes, this is stunning. I love the line relating to the time of day you’d be.
I remember reading this at Sarah’s blog and wanting to spend more time with it. So inspiring.
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