My Future

(Disclaimer: not my image)

God, I have so many plans for the future. Unlike some people, they’re not even that unrealistic. A few years ago I would’ve said they were, but now? Now, they seem feasible.

I want a cat and a dog. I’ve never had a dog and I’ve had cats my whole life, I don’t think I could live without them. I want them to get along, hopefully. I want both to have enough space in my house that they can get away from each other if need be. I want two rabbits, those small ones, and I want an indoor-outdoor pen for them. I want my backyard to be open, almost like a farm but a bit smaller. Maybe about an acre. I want to have gardens lining all sides of my house, and a vegetable garden in my backyard. There’ll be so many butterfly and bee-friendly plants you can’t count them. I want bird baths and bird feeders, and hummingbird feeders. I want to make a bee-bath too, and I want to set up bird houses and bat houses around my backyard. I’ll have a little outdoor sitting area, and a shed where I’ll keep all my things near the very back of the house, but not the back of the lawn.

I want to set out little dishes of cat food and water and have a garage that I’ve turned into a warm shelter for strays. Food, water, beds, cat trees, toys, heaters, heat lamps, all of that. I want my house to have three levels, three bedrooms, a living room, a big kitchen, a greenhouse attached, a big bathroom, and a sun/reading room. I want it to have a front hall closet. I want a screen door and a porch, and my mailbox will be at the end of my driveway. I want my front yard to have a huge garden with a snowball tree right in the middle, and window-sill plants. There’ll be a bunch of rainbow throwers in my front window and on every other window in the house. Plants will be everywhere (animal friendly, of course.) Window-seat areas would be nice, but not necessary.

There will be candles and crystals and dreamcatchers and all my kitchenware will be colorful, my fridge will be half freezer, half fridge, and have a water dispenser and ice-cube tray. I’ll have a kettle and a microwave and a toaster oven and one of those ovens with the flat tops. I’ll have so much tea, so, so much tea, in various jars labelled with my most frequent kinds. I’ll have a dishwasher and a sink with the detachable spray heads and one of those drain-things that catch waste before it goes down. My recycle bin and garbage bin will be under the sink, hidden from view. I’ll have a wide spice rack and a baking bin and separate shelves for baking vs general dry food items. I’ll have so much jello. So many mugs. My cat will have a place on top of a shelf they can eat food from. I might have some fancy dishes, I might not.

My house will always be decorated. Christmas lights will go up after November eleventh, and come down in January. Outside lights will be on an automatic timer. I’ll have a snowblower. My entire front yard will be decorated and maybe even a bit of my back yard too. String and branch lights will be a common theme. In February, they’ll be pink and white and maybe even hearts. In March, pink and blue and white, in April and May, pink and green, and my neighbors will see me starting to clear out my backyard of winter debris in April, assuming the snow is gone. I’ll start planting new plants, trimming my trees and bushes. I’ll have a blackberry bush and bleeding hearts and a lilac tree as well. My backyard will be filled with forget-me-nots. My partner will question my sanity when they realize how complicated I’ve planned things out, and they will question me about it and wonder if it’s worth it, but will start to find my enthusiasm for these things infectious and endearing eventually. I’ll have two to five penpals, and Polaroids will be all over our house.

I’ll have traveled, and souvenirs and maps will be tucked away too. There’ll be one big map and one globe marked with all the places I’ve been. Post cards, bracelets, photos, letters, stamps, journals, too. I’ll constantly have stories to tell from each of these places and they never dry up because I’m always remembering something new or the story is just that interesting you can’t get tired of it. I’ll know three languages, and know some of two more. I’ll be a writer from these stories and from my travels will come my stories and they’ll be so realistic and believable that you’d swear they were the true story even though you’ve already heard the original so many times over and over and over and yet there’s so many different worlds based off of that single story you heard the first time you met me. Did I tell you about my cottage yet? Or a little creek down by my old school? Did I tell you about the house that inspired my longest piece of written work yet? What about where my ex friend lived, or the various places my best friend lived? Did I tell you about my first public school, my second, my first high school, my second high school? The event I went to, the longest way away from home I’ve been without any relatives? The college I want to go to? That I’ve walked through already and gotten lost in? What about my own house? What about that place in New Brunswick I loved so dearly and my great grandma’s old house that I can remember but just barely?

Yes! You’ll say, trying to keep up with my flow of words. I’ve heard about every single one of these places. And I’ll smile and ask, but have you heard the stories that take place within them that are not my own? And my partner will beg me to leave you alone but you’ll see that sparkle in that eye that makes your mouth turn upwards and almost scream, god, please tell me, because my stories are just that interesting.

My future is so wide and out of control that it’s completely in control and I am thrilled by this concept. Maybe I won’t live in a big house, with a big yard with two rabbits, a cat, and a dog. Maybe I’ll live in an apartment built for two people, and I’ll still have tales to tell anyways. I can still hang birdfeeders outside my balcony and place flower pots on my windowsill. I’ll still leave the house and meet my neighbors and ask them about their stories and tell them my own.

There’s so much out there, just waiting for me, and I’ve gotta wait for it too. I’m going to be seventeen this year, so there’s still a bit away. I want to take a gap year before college to travel. I need to travel. I refuse not to travel. I will find a way to travel. Then I will come back, and I will tell my tales, and I will start on the rest of my life. Or, maybe I’ll keep travelling and find another way to make a living. Selling my tales, my trinkets, my coins from other countries, teaching other languages. Maybe I’ll be that aunt that you only ever see at Christmas dinner, but you’ll be so excited to see because I always have stories to give and trinkets to pass out.

There’s so many ways my life can go about, and I’m so damn excited for it. I can see it happening, and that’s a long way from where I’ve come.

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