love.

While stopped at a gas station, I was sitting in the front seat of our family van and watched as a truck pulling a horse trailer pulled over on the far side of the road. Out walked this cowboy, a fair-skinned guy with the blue jeans and belt buckle, half swaggering from bow-legs and half from his mud-caked boots. Our eyes met and he smiled as he continued his saunter into the store. I couldn't help but think about his life, and how amazingly simple it must be. No crazy city traffic, no business agendas, no blaring sirens, no Blackberry. Just him and the farm, his cattle, his horses. Often I catch myself day dreaming about the type of man I'll marry. Will he be musical? A hippie? A businessman? An athlete? A cowboy? I'm thinking that getting hitched to the cowboy-type would be kind of nice. It would be just him and I, the beauty of the outdoors, and our horses. I could return home after a long shift and be greeted by the silence of countryside and the fresh natural air. My biggest choices would include which horse to ride, what to cook fro supper, and possibly, if I'm really ambitious, which flowers to plant in my garden.

I definitely have a soft-spot in my heart for that romance stuff. Chick flicks make me swoon, and I usually end up bawling by the end. But does that 'stuff' really exist? I was sitting with a good girlfriend in Tim's yesterday and I was telling her about my grand plan of living the country life. I said that my husband would be simply obsessed with me, and I with him - we'd live a life full of love and horses, happily growing old together. She laughed at me and snorted that husbands can't love like that. Her comment rattled me a bit - I guess deep down, I'm rooting to find that type of guy to spend the rest of my life with. I hope one day I'll meet him, perhaps while I'm browsing through the shelves of a used-book store or standing in line to order my favorite cup of coffee. Who knows. But I hope it happens. I have such a lovely life, and I really would love to share it with someone. Someday.

Love, D.