It’s waiting for me.
That dream, that someday-my-life-will-be scene. In a big, 100-plus-year-old house that needs to be repainted every few years because it’s so close to the ocean and the salt is hell on paint. Hydrangeas bloom bright blue outside because the soil is right, and the bugs aren’t terribly menacing because of the constant breeze. It’s a big house, lots of rooms, so chosen because I want each of the kids to have their own space, Willem and I needed an office, and we’ve begun a B&B with at least two guest rooms. The kitchen? It’s to die for, with lots of counter space and a granite-topped island. Not much of a yard, really, but we don’t need much; the beach is a short walk away.
Tucked away in my filing cabinet, there is a license that allows me to rent space to guests, to serve them a good breakfast, and to occasionally offer weekend packages with dinners, too. Near that is the paperwork for our foster care certification, and the documentation about the yarn shop I’m thinking of opening in a few years, information about advanced degree programs, and other maybe-somedays. Just because I’ve reached one dream doesn’t mean I’ll shut myself off to other possibilities.
My husband is off at work, having recently obtained tenure at a Boston-area university. He bitches about the commute sometimes, but we both know it’s just for show; the reality is, he’s found his dream job and wouldn’t change it for the world. My kids are happy in school, learning and feeling proud of themselves for it, taking part in various non-school activities that they enjoy, regardless of their skill levels. My friends are busily getting married, having babies, moving along in their jobs, and – best of all – staying with us on a regular basis. We’ve got a policy already in place: if we would reasonably stay at your house for the night, then you stay with us for free. If that makes you feel guilty, tough. Make your own bed or something.
My mother-in-law has contracted permanent laryngitis and severe agoraphobia. My mother has admitted that she might, possibly, maybe, be wrong about something, and we’ve patched up the wounds to our relationships. My grandmother has outlived my grandfather and is living in the apartment over the garage.
Sounds pretty blissful, no? And I really don’t think it’s all that unreasonable a set of expectations. We have the enthusiasm and drive for it, and the financial backing to make it possible. I’m more than willing to give it the work it would need to really shine.
Just a little longer… but someday. Definitely someday.
It’s madhouse Wednesday again… check the list to see who’s joined in this week:
- Be This Way
- The Three Bucketeers
- LeeAnne – a new player!
- Destiny – another new player!!