The map pin.

So, baby…

There’s this cabin I know. Down south a-ways, tucked into the side of a mountain between the trees and the quiet. Not much to it, really — just enough.

A firepit out front for the crisp nights.
A hot tub out back, perched on a balcony with a view of nothing but trees.
Inside, it’s all flannel sheets and cozy corners.
A classic arcade cabinet for rainy days — but no Paperboy, I’m afraid.
And a tiny kitchen with a coffee pot and a fridge, for storing the essentials.

Like looooots of alcohol… (What? You thought I was gonna stop being fun? I said cut back, not cut out. And no, baby… I am never letting you live that one down… ever.)

I imagine sending you a map pin and a couple of dates. No context. Just: This is where I’ll be. If you feel like disappearing for a bit…

Meet me there.

We’d sit by the fire, letting the flames dance while we talked about everything… or nothing at all.
One hand for holding, the other for swirling drinks.

One arm around you, if you’d let me. I’d keep you warm — you know I would.

And the hot tub…

We could let the jets work out the aches in our backs, your head resting on my chest, the water swirling around us…

Or… we could do whatever it is two people who are wildly into each other might do in a hot tub on the side of a mountain, in the woods, with no one else for miles around to see…

or hear…

And mornings would slip by slow, warm, lazy — staying cozy under those covers for as long as we pleased. Then we’d head out to the nearby state park — a place I visited many a childhood summer…

I’d show you the view from the natural bridge. You’d take all the nature photos you want…

I’d end up taking more of you, though.

Maybe one night we’d wander into the nearest town for dinner. Nothing too fancy. Not sure there’s anything fancy out there anyway — but that’s fine.

I’d be with you.

And that’s all that really matters.

And then we’d head back to the cabin and maybe do that thing in the hot tub again…

You know.

If you wanna.

Mmm. Sounds dreamy to me.

But, baby… these trips? They aren’t just for me — they’re for us. So, don't be shy… I'd always love to hear about what happens in that pretty head of yours…

Quaintly Yours.