I would like to be friends with James Taylor. I was listening to his Christmas album in the car and I foresaw my possible future. He seems to be the type of person who always brings homemade bread to a potluck. I also think he would be great at barbeques. Then after we ate our fill, we could sit around a nice fire because he has an outdoor fireplace and roast marshmallows while he plays the guitar.
James washes dishes by hand and only wears cotton layers. His wife brings out some homemade pie while the kids skip rocks on the beach. We can’t actually see the children do this, however, because James’ house is in the mountains. Maybe the kids are at a lake cut into the top of the mountain James lives on.
And then we all sleep in hammocks that automatically rock with crickets and birds gently singing. In other words, James Taylor lives with Snow White.
I think I would do great in this atmosphere with James as a friend. I could harmonize and we would look at each other knowingly over his guitar when others would try to join in, off pitch. Then for Christmas, he would give me a basket of handmade candies wrapped in tissue paper. He would then start to chop wood for the next night’s fire.
This is how James Taylor lives, don’t you think? And I would fit in to this lifestyle quite well. I use to hang out at campsites, although no one ever sang, and I couldn’t understand what anyone was saying around the campfire in Mexico. I used to fall asleep every night to crickets chirping when I lived in Connecticut. I never actually slept outside with crickets. I started camping in Utah, namely Southern Utah, and it is too hot for crickets there. Mostly, I slept to other people’s snores.
But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t fit in. I have done everything I would do at James’ house, just not all together. That is why I need him to be my friend. It would bring me completeness. I would be a complete person. Just like Snow White.