oh, swoon.

Dream home? Yes, is the answer. This is absolutely everything I’d ever look for in a home. This is one of the oldest homes in our town. It’s gorgeous. I hate prefab, cookie cutter, factory same ol’ same ol’. I want something with history. With ghosts in its bones. Not creepy, scary ones, but the ones that you feel, that someone lived here, that this was their home, that it held them and helped to make them who they were at that time. I really think, that everyone leaves pieces of themselves behind in places that are special to them. I think I have left pieces of myself behind in a few places.

I wish I had money. Can I win the lottery? I’ve never played. Maybe I’ll play tomorrow. Can some secret relative die and give me all their money? Can I sell a painting for $200,000?

I’ve always ached for a home more than anything. I never had one, I know this is why. I feel teary and nostalgic just thinking of this. I hate thinking of things I know it is impossible for me to ever have. Alex and I always say that we’ll never have a home of our own. But, oh, how I wish. How I can hear footsteps in the empty rooms.

(This house is actually about 1/2 a block away from our old house that I was in love with.)

While I would change some color schemes, and some minor things, like that one tiny room down there with the bricks and concrete (Do you think it’s the room that that long tall staircase leads to on the left side of the house?) and those sinks in the huge bathroom, boo! (I left out a few photographs like, the laundry room and the attic area that they were remodeling, it seemed.) And oh, I’d put a mail slot right in the door (I loved having that). But, oh, it’s beautiful, isn’t it? Crystal door knobs, the wood, the detailing, that little curvature at the top of the stairs, the fire places, the windows the molding, the porches. Etc . . .

A million stars, 11:11, dandelions, eyelashes, birthday candles, fireflies . . .