You've probably surmised that I'm looking for a new home.
But what am I looking for?
Here's what I want in my dream home.
The home of my dreams is not large.
It is comfortably full with a handful of close friends in attendance.
The home of my dreams is not up-to-the-minute. It doesn't have "finishes." It has origins. It has a backstory that continues to be written with every small tweak and modest update.
It wears its history on its sleeve, just as I do.
The home of my dreams is not expensive, or exclusive, or even exceptional. But it is mine, and you know it's mine because it looks like me and feels like me.
It wasn't designed. It was built, and then it evolved, through time and need and fancy, into my dream home. With more love than money, to be sure.
The home of my dreams is imperfect. It needs improvements. It asks for help. And just like a doting mother, sometimes I say, "Yes, let's splurge on that," and sometimes I say, "No, you'll just have to make do until next year."
And the home of my dreams never complains. In the dead of night it may sigh, or creak, or groan. But in the morning its roof is over my head, its walls stand guard around me.
The home of my dreams is too small, and too old, and too outdated. I want to leave it, with a sound of exasperation that comes from my heart. But I won't. Because I can move my furniture and forward my mail, but I can't leave my dream home.
It's not a structure, after all
It's not an address.
My dream home is the place where my true love and I are together. It's the door we open to the people we love. It's the room where we lie together and listen to the heat come on as we drift into sleep.
My dream home is my dream of living with you.