Monday I'm going to look at a house. To rent. In town.
For the last fifteen years, I've been dreaming of finding my house in the country. A small farmhouse with just two or three acres. In my dream, I have a cat or two, a dog or two, a Jersey cow for milk, and maybe a sheep or two so I learn to sheer wool, make yarn. A large garden outside the back door supplies me with veggies to can and freeze. The fruit trees I plant give me cherries, apples, and peaches. The red raspberries stain my face red because I eat more straight from the vine than I save for jams.
But, some dreams just stay dreams.
I know I'm not the only person whose dream won't ever materialize. There are many, many people who move through their days with the hope that maybe, just maybe, one small part of the dream will happen, but know most likely it won't. This is one of the saddest parts of life.
I keep going back to at least I'll have my children with me in whatever house we decide to rent. And we'll play Scrabble (I always win), we'll share our days' stories with each other, and we'll help each other move closer to making our dreams come true.