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How you hope your future will be like?

There are small arms reaching to be picked up, with something suspiciously sticky to be scrubbed off of a small nose. There are dog paws clacking across hardwood floors as they speed past me and out the front door - that happy jangling sound of collars jostling around. There are pairs of muddy wellies leaning in the porch to be tugged on, and countryside spilling around me for miles and miles. There are carefully cultivated rows of flowers to be cut and dried. Beyond that, there are wildflower meadows growing wherever they please.
And when we're done exploring and laughing and tree climbing and pond dipping and animal track finding, there are log burners crackling inside. There are curtains to be pulled against the weather whilst dogs curl up on the rugs in front of the fire. There's a bottle of wine in the fridge and a library of books to run a finger across the spine of. And there'll be work to be done, but I don't care much about that. As long as there is contentment. As long as there is that quiet kind of joy.

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