My Fantasy House

Our front door

Our house has become one of those that I used to love to make up stories about when I was a kid.

The doorway shrouded in lilacs, the lilacs hidden by trees.  The paint a bit rough, peeling in some places, some missing cedar shakes, a flower growing up through the front step.

Just the kind of house I’d stop to look at  while walking to school.  The ones with over grown gardens and the biggest trees.  I’d imagine who lived there.

Most often it was a vampire or some other supernatural being.  Never a human, they had to be more powerful than a human.  Someone who could protect me from anyone and everyone.   Inside the house there was always a room with floor to ceiling bookshelves and some big stuffed chairs.  Another room had a fireplace and then the long dining room table lit by candles that can seat many but usually only serves two.

I’ve told myself that story so many times.  To this day I look for houses that could be the setting for my story.

A few days ago when I was cutting some lilacs to put in a vase for Jon to take pictures of, I saw our house this way for the first time.

Who might live through the lilacs, past the gargoyle and beyond the red door?

Perhaps our house is my doing, my conjuring. By imagining it for so long I brought it into reality.

Except no vampire lives here, just a  few bats in the attic.

But then my story made real would have to adjust to the world I live in.  The books are there if not the book shelves, a fireplace filled with a wood stove insert, and the long dining room table is so cluttered with stuff, there isn’t room for more than me and Jon without a major cleaning.

My fantasy house was dark in more ways than one.  It made sense of the fear, hurt and confusion inside of me.

I’m sitting behind the trees and the lilacs as I write this.  Up the front steps with a lily growing through the cement, on a faded wicker bench.

The real difference between my fantasy house and ours is that our house is about light not darkness.  It’s not a place to hide, but a home I can be my true self in.  A safe, welcoming, loving place filled with sunlight.

It’s not really about the house at all, it’s about a happy home.

6 thoughts on “My Fantasy House

  1. They do say you attract what you think about. I always denied this because I didn’t get what I yearned for but then I realised that what I got was what I was supposed to get.

    1. Ah, that’s interesting Carolyn. And sometimes I had it where I got what I wanted but didn’t know it. Like it was in front of me all along.

  2. Maria, what a beautiful accounting of your life. I’ve been following you since the first Bedlam Farm era. It’s been a fascinating journey, watching you become the strong, confident woman you are today. I am grateful that you are willing to share that journey with us. 🙂

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