thornbury

Last night in my dreams, I was back at the cottage, that faced the Georgian Bay. And the quiet little cove that was footsteps away from the backyard.

I entered the front room, with the blue and red plaid couch, the pine bookshelf, with cottage books, and wooden ducks and pictures of a family I'd never met. Then there was a record player, and records that been neatly stacked away in the corner of the room. Next to it, magazines to leaf through. Some magazines were published long before I had been born.

I walked into the kitchen where I could see large undressed windows facing the bay. Mesmerizing waves rolling under pale blue clouds. Somewhere next to the cove , where the swans and the ducks rested, my children played. Collecting large irregular rocks. Some, shiny and salmon coloured. Others, dark like an overcast sky.

And there I was, walking slowly toward the brown L-shaped couch, with over-sized brown pillows. On the pale walls hung pictures of lakes and boats. On the opposite wall, hung a large mirror, with the bay looking at me. Waves cool and sparkling under the sun. I was happy to be there.

I could hear the sounds of play. My children laughing and talking. Arguing as well at times.
I could see their small backs facing me. My son's strawberry blond hair, looking flaxen in the sun. My daughter skipping and dancing, in her thin summer dress. My husband near by, his back to me as well. Standing there, tall, his dark hair under a red cap.

It was peaceful. Inspiring. I looked and everything I saw pulled me to it. I did not want to leave.