The Cedar Room

Dream a little.

Once, I was asked a question…

We (you and I) flee from the city, road tripping in a vintage european convertible; top down, sun warming the leather seats on our backs and its dark green shine blending in with the countryside. I’m your co-pilot; smoking a cigarette and playing songs that I know you’ll love on deck. You, handsome and smart, command the wheel with the steadiness of one hand while the other is feeling the breeze and hairs on my thighs. We share glances in between our disbelief of how far we’ve come. You smile, I laugh, we kiss and stroke each other’s necks. Turning off the old country highway, we reach a down trotted dirt path where the trees and untamed fields on the either side are luminous from the setting sun. The building is old and shares its stories of love and love-lost. We can feel the history of the past and share the excitement of the future. Its walls are built from the rock it sits on, the floors are empty and cool our feet with persian rugs in asymmetrical alignment. The kitchen is bright with a large basin and a strong stainless steel counter which sits heavily on the center isle where we’ll cut fruit and prepare our dinners. The living room has high ceilings and rounded walls, the furniture is minimal making the typically small area feel as grand as the 5-foot tall wood-burning fireplace that takes up the main wall. We rest our wine glasses on the mantel while playing old tunes and lying on the floor with a plate of bread and local cheese between us. The bathroom is what made me fall in love with the home in the first place, it too is empty with only a basin and great victorian tub which stands on its own underneath a window, sans glass and curtains, looking onto endless fields of grass. We soak in the tub, watch the day change and listen to the silence outside. You shave, but there are no mirrors except for the one found lying on the bedroom floor which I hold steady as you examine your face and neck. There is only a bed in the room we slept in, no closet or set of drawers. The clothes we do wear are safely tucked away in a trunk that stays hidden in the corner. Life is grand. We live by our own clock, waking up with the sun and going to sleep out of exhaustion. We eat when hungry, and the menu changes from day-to-day. There are bicycles with baskets which we ride into town, sampling the markets and buying what looks ripe and appeases our appetites. We cook together, always. Assigning one another with roles and small tasks as we share stories of our fears, dreams, and beliefs. Days are quiet and intimate, sharing books and laughter. We live. We love. We repeat.