I had an epiphany recently about a wish I'd forgotten about. Some 30 years ago, unattached, lonely, desperate to be somewhere I could think about my life and where it might be headed, I longed for the opportunity to housesit someone's home on a beach, preferably on the Atlantic, where I could winter taking long solitary walks among the scrub, maybe with a dog (not necessarily mine), reading difficult books, and writing, writing, writing.
My epiphany, of course, and it came as I was on a deep and solitary walk without even benefit of dog, was that wholly sans realizing it's what I was doing I have stepped into that wish. The fact it isn't an ocean I live on is more than compensated by the fact I'm not housesitting or even renting but own this Great Lake beach home. I don't even need to borrow the dog.