In my dream house that lovely yard was always green and surrounded by all sorts of leafy trees. I don’t recall flowers, although there surely were a few. The important thing was an area of grass surrounded by tall trees on all three sides, with no fence. The trees defined the boundaries. This peaceful, protected, personal porch overlooking my private park would be my retreat.
This morning I gazed out the sliding glass doors leading from the kitchen onto our glassed-in sun porch. Even though the morning is misty and gray, I noticed the patch of lawn is fully green now, and the tall trees surrounding the yard show serious signs of spring. Within three weeks, they will be full of leaves and privacy will return. Right now the patch of forsythia is ablaze with yellow, and other bushes will soon add pink and white.
Suddenly my eyes widened and my jaw dropped with wonder. I am living in my dream house! Perhaps I hadn’t recognized this fact because the yard in my dream house was flat. This yard slopes 30° uphill. Perhaps I didn’t notice because nearly half the year, this yard is devoid of green as the trees shed their leaves. Or maybe the fact that the sun porch is a later addition threw me off. But today I saw the realization of a dream.
This is only one of a number of childhood visions that have come about in the course of my life. Some call them goals, some call them dreams. I don’t care what you call them, they fascinate me and are an integral part of the fabric of my life. No account of my life would be complete without stories about these visions and how they have been realized. They count among the memories that give meaning to my life.
What about you? Have you had visions or dreams (sleeping dreams or daydreams) that came true? What stories can you write about these dreams, the way they came true, and the meaning they hold for you?
Write on,
Sharon Lippincott, aka Ritergal
3 comments :
Yes, Sharon, I can relate to your "childhood dreams". I'm not living in my dream house, per se, but there is an element of my ideal home in every little sliver of real estate I've ever occupied. And believe me they've been "slivers", ha!
Books, music, flowers, comfort, lots of light. No matter where I've been there has always been a "green view". Sometimes only ONE tree--- and that made it even more special...
Hey Magnoliagirl, I'd love your house, wherever it is. It sounds like a living story. I'm betting that everything on display has a story behind it that's more intriguing than "I found that picture for only $983 at the Ashton Gallery a year ago. The artist is a rising star."
I love houses that are living museums of people's lives. These houses have personality.
One of these days I'm going to finish a memoir of my mother based on a walk through her home when she and my father were on vacation. The stories will proceed from item to item.
What a great idea, a memoir based on a walk thru a home. Our place is furnished in early flea market, when you could scratch some paint and find oak hidden underneath, then spend hours stripping and refinishing. We had favorites at the flea market: the "box man, the bottle man (oh how we regret letting that blue bottle get away) the trunk man" etc. Thanks for that memory jog.
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