In my dream there is a house.
It sits on a bit of a hill. With a view.
That’s not the best part of the house though.
This house it has a room. A spacious room with a low ceiling. Maybe a slanted one. The walls are wood painted white. The carpet is plush, almost shaggy, jazz blue. One wall is all bookshelves bursting with books. The other wall has dormer windows that look out onto the view.
The room is quite bare beyond a desk and a navy blue, overstuffed, and incredibly inviting love-seat.
The whole room screams “come curl up with a good book or a nice journal!” This space is mine. Beyond the door to this room is the rest of the house where the family rules. Their chaos, their lives. In my space it’s all about me. It’s where I can be creative. Where I can come find myself again when the needs and wants of the others become too much.
It’s all a dream.
In reality there is no such house. There is no such room.
In reality there is a house that sits 30 minutes away from the heart of my community. 30 minutes away from a quick cup of tea with a friend. 45 minutes away from the 6-year-old’s school. 30 minutes away from the 4-year-old’s daycare.
In reality there is a house that is bursting at the seams.
Literally. Walls cracking in every room. Foundation threatening to crumble.
Figuratively. Stuff in every room. Shelves overflowing. Chaos ruling the roost.
In reality I have no sanctuary where I can escape the demands of all these lives I’ve taken on as my own. Nowhere I can go to remember who I am, what I dream, what I want.
For a time this year there was hope of moving. Of coming closer to the community. Of finding a bit more space. Of giving me a room.
Then 2011 decided to teach me a little lesson on living in the future instead of being fully present in the now. It stripped me of that hope and keeps kicking me down whenever I start to get back up.
2011 is a mean teacher.
I have it good. We have a house. We have money to pay our bills. We have laughter and hugs. We have medical insurance and great medical care. We have family. We have friends.
In the grand scheme of things, things could be worse.
Things could be so. much. worse.
It’s good for me to stop and remember all the good things that fill the cracks between the heartache and challenges 2011 keeps throwing at us. It is good for me to remember that what doesn’t break us makes us stronger.
And this will make us stronger.
One day I will write about it. I might be in that room, in that house. Or I might be here, at a coffee shop, pretending that I’m in that room. Because as long as I carry it in my heart, maybe I never actually have to have that house with the view.
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