Friday, November 02, 2012

NABLOPOMO 2: dream house

If you could live anywhere, where would it be?

If I could live anywhere, it would be in a fictional place. I would love to live in the romanticized New York City of Carrie Bradshaw or the cast of Friends. The small town of Mayberry where everyone knew everybody else and there was so little crime that the Sherriff and his Deputy have a lot of downtime. Capeside (a la Dawson's Creek) or one of those amazing little mountain towns imagined by writers like Nora Roberts. Wisteria Lane. Only, drama-free imaginings of these places, places where the weather is always perfect for the season, the neighbors are always friendly, their dogs never poop in your yard.


Of course, these places don’t really exist; in real life, there’s always good balanced with bad, and not even always intentionally so—sometimes it’s just a matter of what one person wants not matching with what another person wants. Misunderstandings happen, anger may ensue and poof! There goes that happy little world.

Since I was little, I’ve dreamed of a house on a corner, a 2-story with white clapboard siding, a big yard surrounded by a white picket fence, giant, symmetrical leafy trees. It’s perpetually fall here, and it seems to be always on the verge of dusk. The kitchen is large, the windows tall and narrow, the light coming from them warm and comforting. You just know something delicious is cooking in that kitchen. Smoke spirals lazily from the redbrick chimneys, and the neighborhood bustles with activity. The big front porch is big enough for a few rockers to relax in at the end of a long day, maybe with a book, maybe with some knitting, maybe with a friend and a glass of wine. A tire swing hangs from one of the trees, large and sturdy enough that the whole family (sometimes several family members at once) take a swing on it. I imagine this home is in New England, though I’ve never been.

So, if I could live anywhere, that’s where I’d like to live.

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