Journal Entry: Future Perfect: What does yours look like?

I paced down the boardwalk in Stillwater this afternoon, a solitary splash of hot pink and denim against damp concrete, heavy water, and grass made translucent and brittle with repeated freezing. Even the gulls looked cold, briefly wheeling over the open waters of the St. Croix, then gathering in indignant groups on the hardened greenspace, as the wind jabbed bitter fingers in between their feathers.

Back in my rusting four-door, I motored north on 95, beads of snow shower pelting my windshield, and was rewarded by the subtle colors and deep textures of pre-winter. Sandstone cliffs to my left yielded to sky-scapes of ink-scratched branches, cinnamon leaves, the occasional shout-out of golden elm, and cool naked groves of thin birch. To my right, the St. Croix twisted dark and wide, Wisconsin rolling back from the opposite shore like a feather bed.

This, at least, is part of my Future Perfect, along with the falling-down barns, the marinas dry-docked for winter, sharp scent of someone's glowing fireplace, and the black Shetland pony nibbling, unconcerned, outside the confines of her white picket paddock.

So, what does your Future Perfect look like? Who is with you? Is there a Future Perfect job, and a Future Perfect home? Are you there right now, or is it just around the next twist in the road?   

© Liz Husebye Hartmann