For her Utopia was where she owned a wall full of books, a roomful, a houseful even. It was where she was capable of making strawberry preserve and scones just like Enid Blyton described it. In Utopia, she would sit down with her five friends who loved her unconditionally, and she loved them back too, and have the scones with clotted cream and her own preserve while they racked their brains to solve the latest, most baffling of mysteries.
For her Utopia was where she could write at will and the words that came out would be so perfect that people would be transformed, their lives would be bettered. But in Utopia, she would be euphoric, not for the appreciation of the work, but the perfection of the words that came out of her pen. In Utopia, she would put a fine-nibbed pen to crisp, white paper and she would write her heart out without the distractions of the world pulling her away from the stream of words that bubbled from within her.
For her Utopia was the perfect pain of tattoos, artwork that was as beautiful and complicated as a fine filigree work of lace or a monument dedicated to a loved wife. In Utopia, the pain made her a better person and the memory lasted a lifetime, etched on her skin.
For her Utopia was where her family was complete, where the family was safe and sane and well-fed and well taken care of. In Utopia, there would be no blank spaces in family portraits which were complete only in the wonderful memories of the years gone by.
For her Utopia was love so strong that it went all the way from secret giggles to wrinkled hands by the fire and she knew that 'death do us apart' was that one part of the vows she took that would not come true, for their bond would last beyond just a lifetime. In Utopia, the crests of the waves always came crashing down but never failed to rise into another crest – only because of the presence of the rock, her rock.
For her Utopia was where the world was peaceful and green and had the best of men overlooking things, like God’s angels, only not so fictitious. In Utopia, everyone co-existed and minded their own businesses because they had realized that that is the only way to be a truly enlightened race if they were to survive the next great change that the Universe might bring to them.
For her Utopia was where she learnt from mistakes and never made them again, where she was truly happy in the sun and the sand as much as she was in the blankets that protected her from the sleet. In Utopia, there was nothing, really, that could get her so down that she couldn’t...wouldn't bounce back up after a few dark moments.
And guess what, she does live in her Utopia for no one can take away the strength of her dreams and her will to make those dreams, reality.
P.S: Just being whimsical, bear with me.