The Hut they never built me

I want a hut. I want to run to a cool dark place and stay there for four days. These are days of solitude, of turning inwards, of listening to your body rather than demanding it carries on as usual. These are days of long sleep and of fever dream...Who was he? and why do I miss him on waking? Why did my voice take on Siren qualities? It felt wonderful, his admiration and my ability to sing over a crowd of people. Why did my mind make him married and unattainable? Where did that face come from? It was no one I know or have ever known. The air is restless today. Restless skies make me unsettled and uneasy; not least because they are often harbingers of wet weather. I want to lie under a soft blanket with a cup of tea and have a low male voice read me short dark stories from the 1800's. Maybe he could brush my hair and pour me a glass of very fine red wine. I want his eyes to dance and laugh with kindness and mischief. I don't want this man to be my lover. I don't want this man to 'want' me. I want him to love me like a sister, to be kind to me because he wants my smile and warmth, not my body. I think he will light candles and the fire because he knows I love them both. This man smells nice; of cedar and cinnamon, nutmeg and black pepper with a trace of vanilla. He is wearing dark jeans and a large jumper. His hair is clean and smells newly washed. I am allowed to look at his beautiful hands as he reads and the beauty of his neck and Jaw. I am allowed to revel in his maleness and magnificence, all the more apparent because he isn't trying to make me notice. When I fall asleep he will curl away into the night like woodsmoke. Fleu de feu, oh flower of fire.

The reality is that I am on my way to work to teach 7 students in a row. I will come home and try to cook something for us that isn't too awful. I will then apply my mediocre calligraphy skills to the name cards that will hang from the picnic baskets. I will have a cup of tea and collapse into bed (where I should have been all along) and try to conjure my red-moon man from the ether. I will wake, having succeeded or not, and go out to teach all over again.