Photo by Marta Wave on

So, where can someone go to be happy?  I ask this question because I often consider getting into my car and driving to Nirvana, but I don’t know where it is.  I hear song lyrics in my head about not looking in my rear-view mirror and I just want to drive away.

Am I the only one?

The destination under consideration is a cottage on or near the water, in a town with vibrant side streets – alleys really – that have book shops, arts & crafts stores, and cafes with outdoor seating perched among ivy and floral covered walls, all within walking distance of said cottage.  Consistently perfect weather – around the mid 70’s with sunshine – 75 is perfect in my opinion – prevails.  It would be ideal if it were a place where I am acquainted with no one, as I can find my socializing in the silent nod of “how do you do” as I make brief eye contact with a passing stranger in the cozy side street, or in the exchange of pleasantries with the host or cashier at the shops I would frequent in this casual locale. Must have excellent broadband!  This is a dealbreaker and worthy of the outburst and use of the exclamation point.  So worthy, I considered an all-caps moment there.  Then I remembered the time someone accused me of being rude because I put one word – one word – in all caps in a text I sent. But I digress.  In short, lack of internet does not translate in Nirvana.  Lack of people, however, is a plus.

Photo by Mathias Reding on

This one-story, cozy little cottage would be surrounded by a waist high white picket fence with adequate gardens and someone who didn’t require lengthy discussion (or get all caught up in caps) would come by every two weeks or so to do the upkeep.  They would know instinctively what to prune, and weed, and mow, and plant.  I love to cast my gaze at a beautiful garden but I’m not a hobbyist by nature.  There would be a narrow path leading to the cottage wide enough for a single car to come or go.  I would be able to at least hear a babbling brook or a river in motion that isn’t feigned by a store-bought fountain.  I want the real deal.  And this brook/river would lead a mere 30 minutes’ maximum drive to the ocean where I can spread my blanket and plant my umbrella in the sand and recline seaside with a snack and a good book.  Parking is plentiful at this beach.  Like broadband at the cottage, parking at the beach is a deal breaker.  Though I would own a bike for exercise.  The bike would have a white wicker basket for holding purchases made at the shops in my cozy town.  However, the bike will not replace all transportation options because I can’t haul diet coke from the store to the cottage on a bike! 

Oh, the cottage would be filled with comfortable style.  Updated kitchen with cabinets that “soft close” when touched and counter tops that are impossible to stain or damage.  The floors would be golden brown, made of wood that simply need a light dusting.  Windows would surround the cottage to allow fresh air and plenty of sunshine that moves throughout each room in such a way that I can actually tell time by its placement, year-round. One wall would be folding floor to ceiling doors that give that outside living feel. All the remaining walls would be covered with shelves of books by all the authors who have inspired me to read and to write and to search my soul for the perfect landing place in life that has brought me to this happy place.  They would grace these shelves and I would re-read their passages that have been underlined to remind me that I am worthy.

Pictures will hang in bare spaces not already absorbed by windows and shelves and they would be a tribute to my precious pets.  Killer-bud, the yorkie who had absolutely not one ounce of killer in him based on size alone but a growl that he clearly thought was a roar; Pearl, the Peek-a-Poo named after my favorite Janice Joplin album (Pearl the dog was quite a vocalist too); Frosty and Pepe, the unknown breed named in tandem after our favorite restaurant; and my cherished Lucy, the Beagle who saved my life just by being in it. Lucy had a marking on her back that depending on which side of her you stood could be a diamond or a Christmas tree.  My heart breaks at the loss of them all.


Like the humans who planted themselves in my path through life, they will be remembered but will visit no more. These walls will remember them all though in happiest times. And I will languish in solitude, hurting no one and not being hurt.

Ah, to reach Nirvana by car would be divine.  Now if I could only find my car keys!

1 thought on “Nirvana”

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