It's only now and then that either Spoke or I voice a wish for wealth. We talk about it for fun sometimes; what we'd do with the money, charities we'd give it to...
We whisper fantasies in the dark as we're falling off to sleep, listening to nature and wanting, really, for little more than to wake together to the same sounds.
Money doesn't buy happiness; we know. My mom knew, and her friend, the rich man with the beautiful blue eyes, knew.
We don't long for the big house or the fancy car. We've no friends we care to impress. The old cliche is true; if we did, they wouldn't be our friends. But--- but--- but wouldn't it be great, Spoke suggested the other night as he prepared the pot for his morning coffee, if he could put a bunch of us on a plane...
"That's the kind of money I'd like to have," my love said. I knew it was spoken from the heart, from the heart of this man who wants for nothing but to make me happy.
With money to burn, Spoke would send me, my sister and some of our friends on an all-expenses-paid trip to Shanghai!
After checking in at the Waldorf, we'd slink into the lounge to see Dallas' soul singer, Andrea Dawson, who recently landed a three-month gig at the beautiful hotel.
Money could buy such an outrageously fun time.
If today, if only I could, I'd ask my mother's friend for the huge favor. I've no doubt he would understand what a thrill it would be if I found myself in the bar of a luxurious hotel halfway across the globe, listening to Dawson's fine and rich renditions.
When you think about it, it's not so different from wanting to feel the wind blowing through your hair as you speed down a California highway in a shiny new convertible.