Going Dutch

I wanted that white colonial house at the end of the dirt path and you knew it.  You knew I needed it, the way I needed water, or anything else I cannot think of that I cannot live without.

Now things were starting to get crazy because I think deep down, you knew how much I loved that place, and I think, on some level, you thought I loved it more than you.  

But I didn't.  

I loved the way it made me think I could be anything or go anywhere.  But I didn't want to go anywhere. 

I just wanted the house and I think I knew I would die there one day.  Maybe with you, but not if you failed to understand this.

On a wraparound porch.  With a mint julep, because it was in a book I loved.

A book I loved that way.