What would it be like to move away to another city and become someone else?

What would it be like to move away to another city and become someone else?

Where would I go and what would I become? How would I look? How would I smell, and speak, and walk, and strut? What would I wear? What would I do? What would my home look like, my car, my kids? What would I take with me and what would I leave behind?

These are questions I ask myself quite often. Not because I want to run away from who I am but just because I am curious.

When I envision myself living my fantasy life it doesn’t look that different from my life now. My clothes are perfect, elegant, and classic. A look I have never been truly able to pull off without feeling like I am playing dress up. The black crepe sheath dress with pearls, black patent leather pumps, and a French twist. I wear it and I look great but I always end up looking a little bit messy rather than cool elegance. I will never be Grace Kelly. In my fantasy I am always just a little bit thinner. I have a great hourglass figure and that sheath dress looks better on a thinner girl.

My house always has giant, nearly floor to ceiling windows with an open floor plan and seems to be an apartment overlooking a magnificent skyline of some gorgeous city like Paris or New York. It’s a three story Brownstone because I always have a yard and a garden. The top floor is where my living area and my bed are and the middle floor is for entertaining and dining. I never see the first floor but it leads to my yard and my garage. My furniture is mine but I have reupholstered my love seat and refinished some of the worn and tattered pieces I own. My art and my books are everywhere but more orderly. I have a claw foot tub and the perfect bathroom near my bed and a very large walk in closet that may actually be an entire room. It’s not full of clothes but the one’s I have are beautifully displayed. Flowers are everywhere. It smells divine in my entire home. My kids have their own beds and the cat has a cool maze of walkways build just below the ceiling…the ultimate collection of pathways, platforms, and little caves to keep him entertained. The dog has the most cushy bed near mine and a large toy box full of his favorite things.

Everyone knows me in my neighborhood from the guy who sells me my coffee to the lady who picks the prettiest bouquets just for me. It is a community inside a city just the way I like it.
I spend my days reading and writing or wandering through my neighborhood with my dog and a coffee in my hand. I spend my evenings entertaining or talking to people about wine. I can see myself in a very cool little wine bar listening to music and talking to people about my latest fascination. I feel the love of a man and see myself in his arms but I can never see his face. I wonder if that part of the dream is real.

It’s funny as I write these words I have to admit that this is basically how my life is now. Except for the description of my home I am pretty much describing the way I live my life. I suppose that is a really good thing. Houses and dresses can be changed. Changing an entire life is much more difficult. I am pretty happy with mine and the things in my fantasy are not that far out of my reach.

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