When I was fifteen years old, my four best friends and I spent a week at my friend's parents' place in Vermont. They had a porch enclosed with screens, and on it was a hanging bed - really just a piece of wood suspended from the ceiling by four chains and piled up with sleeping bags and comforters. We took turns sleeping on that bed, and on the night that it was my turn, I asked my friend what was so special about it, why everyone fought over who got to stay there. "You'll see," she said.
And in the very early morning, while everyone else was still asleep, I woke to pale sunlight streaming across the lake through a thick cloud of mist. I burrowed down into the blankets, and watched as the lake grew brighter and the birds began to stir. It was one of the most peaceful moments of my life.
The place we’re looking at has no lake, but it does have an enclosed porch, and a distant view of the Hudson River. I'm not counting any chickens, but I'm just saying...
it'd be nice to get back there.
