Dream House
Our dream house isn't so much about the rooms and the architecture, though I do spend time envisioning those, for me it's the feel of having something all our own. Of not having to answer to anyone about paint, walls, floors, anything. It's about having choices and security, and something to mold.
During my childhood we moved 16 times in 17 years. We moved because the rent hadn't been paid, or the landlord wanted someone else to live in the place, or any other number of stories that people on welfare are told.
In most of my memories of these places, the walls were white or that off white that looks dirty and grimy. We could never paint, both due to the lease restrictions, and the cost of paint I suppose. I dreamed of color.
When I grew up I wanted stability, to live in the same place and make a nest, a home, that I didn't have to move from for years. I just wanted to not have to move for more than three years (my childhood record). Though oddly, the thought of buying a house never occurred to me, or least not until a few years ago.
When I moved in with my husband, we stayed in our apartment for 15 years. It was in a wonderful city, and the apartment certainly had charm, being in an attic of an old 1800's inn, but it wasn't kept up, and being renters we were limited in our home repair options. And we dreamt, dreamt of a newer place that didn't need so much work, of one that we could have color on the walls, and we dreamt often, my husband and I, of how we would redo the place if it were ours.
And yet, the idea of being able to own our own home didn't occur to us for years. Once it did, we saved money like crazy people, researched home prices on the internet, and curled up with the real estate section of the newspaper on Sundays.
Of course, the real estate market was booming, my husband was changing career paths, and we were pregnant, all of which changed the house dream quite a bit. So our goal, our dream house, is still a work in progress.
A work in progress that I dream of often. I dream of a fenced in yard, safe for my son to play in, with a puppy by his side. I dream of having an extra room so my husband can have an office. I dream of a home that I can change and mold, paint, and refinish, rearrange, and scrape up by accident, without having to answer to a landlord. I dream of a home of wild colors, and warmth, and coziness, to grow my boy up in.
My dream house, is a home for my family, a safe place, and all our own.
During my childhood we moved 16 times in 17 years. We moved because the rent hadn't been paid, or the landlord wanted someone else to live in the place, or any other number of stories that people on welfare are told.
In most of my memories of these places, the walls were white or that off white that looks dirty and grimy. We could never paint, both due to the lease restrictions, and the cost of paint I suppose. I dreamed of color.
When I grew up I wanted stability, to live in the same place and make a nest, a home, that I didn't have to move from for years. I just wanted to not have to move for more than three years (my childhood record). Though oddly, the thought of buying a house never occurred to me, or least not until a few years ago.
When I moved in with my husband, we stayed in our apartment for 15 years. It was in a wonderful city, and the apartment certainly had charm, being in an attic of an old 1800's inn, but it wasn't kept up, and being renters we were limited in our home repair options. And we dreamt, dreamt of a newer place that didn't need so much work, of one that we could have color on the walls, and we dreamt often, my husband and I, of how we would redo the place if it were ours.
And yet, the idea of being able to own our own home didn't occur to us for years. Once it did, we saved money like crazy people, researched home prices on the internet, and curled up with the real estate section of the newspaper on Sundays.
Of course, the real estate market was booming, my husband was changing career paths, and we were pregnant, all of which changed the house dream quite a bit. So our goal, our dream house, is still a work in progress.
A work in progress that I dream of often. I dream of a fenced in yard, safe for my son to play in, with a puppy by his side. I dream of having an extra room so my husband can have an office. I dream of a home that I can change and mold, paint, and refinish, rearrange, and scrape up by accident, without having to answer to a landlord. I dream of a home of wild colors, and warmth, and coziness, to grow my boy up in.
My dream house, is a home for my family, a safe place, and all our own.
posted by whimsicalstuff at
11:32:00 AM
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