Wanderlust

Drenched in jewels and coated in furs, she stepped one platform clad foot across the threshold.  The other foot followed as Claude, her poodle, stepped gingerly across the doorway.  Tucking her suitcase next to the door, she placed her matching carry-on on the floor and shed her numerous layers.  Once in just her cashmere sweater and delicately distressed jeans, she slid off her heels.  Glancing at her suitcase and then at her dog perched on the couch, she chose to join him on the sofa and reminisce about their trip.  She pulled off her necklaces, swept her hair into a bun, and curled under the blanket.  Snuggling with Claude, she tucked her toes under the blanket and began to recall all that they had done.

As visions of sun kissed beaches,  graffiti-clad cities, and fields-blanketed in flowers swirled through her mind, a feeling of wanderlust washed over her.  She loved to travel accompanied by her partner in crime, Claude, and take on new places and learn new languages.  As her memories flitted about, she recalled the taste of chocolate melting over her tongue.  She remembered the intoxicating blend of spices dancing across her tastebuds.  She longed for the feeling of biting into a fresh baguette as the crust crumbled in her mouth.  Opening her eyes to look at Claude, she noticed a worn copy of a cooking magazine sitting atop her coffee table.  Smiling, she realized that even at home she could appease her wanderlust just by stepping into the kitchen.  She would have much to learn, but with a few ingredients, a well-stocked spice rack, and a multitude of recipes, she could travel anywhere without ever having to even put on shoes.  Content with her “travel” plans for the future, she settled into the couch, and closed her eyes.  As she fell asleep, Claude rested his chin on her foot, happy to be home again.