Friday Fantasy: My Happy Place

"The soul needs a happy place; let me introduce you to mine." (Click to Tweet!)

Edited to clarify: There seems to be some confusion in the comments - people are reading this and thinking that this post is what my life looks like. It's not. It's a fantasy - it's a wish, a mental place of happiness, a visualization. Someday, I hope to see it all in real life, but until then, it remains only a fantasy.

It's morning - everything is draped in filtered sunlight as I make my way through the house. I've been awake now for an hour, maybe 90 minutes, and the house is quiet. Peaceful.

I'm not sure where my girls are, but they must be grown up and gone; I feel nothing but peace despite their absence. The smell of fresh coffee reaches me, wafting toward me from the kitchen, and I run my fingers through hair still wet from the shower. The movement releases fragrance from my skin, and I smile to myself, remembering the long-gone years of my life as a ''low-maintenance" woman. There is a sense of satisfaction, a sense of completeness, which confirms to me that my children have grown. I walk past an empty bedroom, shaking my head ruefully, remembering ... something.

In the kitchen, the coffee is steaming prettily beneath the brewer; I add cream and sugar, listening to the sounds of my own movements as the world outside awakens. Birds begin to chirp in the backyard outside the kitchen window, and I watch them flitting back and forth - seeking their breakfast as I seek mine.

Within another half hour, my coffee, my breakfast, my laptop, and I are safely and peacefully settled on the back patio. I spear a strawberry, enjoying the sight of my dog frolicking in the yard. He's old now, and he doesn't frolic quite as enthusiastically as he once did ... but the smidgen of puppyhood that remains in his spirit sends him sniffing through the yard, following nose on trails neither of us can see.

He makes his way through the yard as I finish my breakfast - by the time my fruit is gone and my toast is only remembered by the crumbs on my plate and the lingering hint of cinnamon on my tongue, I've opened the laptop and started to work. By the time I break to head inside, retreating from the rising sun, the dog has found his place at my feet.

But before I close the door on this, before I make my way to a cozy couch in a clean, comfortably welcoming living room, I turn back to survey what I've worked so hard for:

• A yard of my own, which will need endless mowing soon, but that's alright.
• A garden, shriveled and sad from the ravages of winter, but already showing signs of hope for the summer to come.
• A deck that I build with my own hands, fit to my own design and created to my specifications (With a contractor's supervision, of course. I didn't work this hard to get here and die on a faulty deck.), made ever more beautiful by the potted plants and the outdoor furniture.

This is the place I retreat to when I need peace, when I need solitude. Always, this place, this wooden deck on the back of a cozy little house, this sun-filled expanse of contentment. It feels happy, confident, satisfied. It feels ... mine.

Questions for the Comments Section:

• Do you have a happy place in your mind, a place you retreat to when you need a place to escape, or simply a place that's all your own?
• If you do, show me around. Tell me about your place in the comments.