There's a Place For Me

There is a house. It’s a simple house, one storey ranch, built in the eighties. It’s nothing spectacular but it has nice yards, a bay window, fruit trees. It’s a dream, a hope, a wish, this house. Something near yet too far away to reach. But it’s fun to imagine nonetheless. It’s fun to picture how I’d decorate my room, what furniture we’d fill the place with, where I’d park my plants. We can paint the walls any color, fill our garden with any seeds, choose our cabinet handles, our preferred shape of mirror. The limits are without limits. 
There are so many little things that I think about at random times of the day such as changing my pillow cases each season as well as the dish towels, what all cutlery I can acquire, what is the most aesthetically cute way to store my stuffies. I remember wallpaper is a thing, and rugs, and accent chairs. All the different types of storage solutions fill my brain way too often. 
But it isn’t just dreaming of the house itself, it’s the lifestyle that comes with it. I start imagining the hobbies I’d pick up whilst living in this house. I’d take up barbequing, maybe do some backyard kickboxing and tai chi, I’d house bees. I see myself sitting on the deck and crocheting or knitting, perhaps sipping a cup of tea whilst watching the sun set. I see myself tending to a colorful garden, growing grapes, harvesting pumpkins. Maybe I could make a little chicken coop and keep fluffy chickens, consuming their eggs for breakfast each afternoon. 
Somehow, I’d create a wee contained utopia of sorts and live my best life in this house. This house that I don’t have in person but have in my heart. I could get a cat, or two. Figure out how to play the violin in the garage so I don’t make my neighbors hate me. Maybe I’d somehow become really savvy with handiwork and do minor house repairs and renovations. There’s this part in my brain that keeps telling me, this is the place where things get better, where they improve and heal and repair. 
Having a dishwasher and laundry machines within my reach, on the same floor seems unreal. Being able to see the night sky without all the downtown light pollution, impossible. Breathing fresh air, unsullied from pot, cigarettes, crack, and bodily fluids, is otherworldly. It feels like another life entirely, an alternate universe, the possibility of living in that house. Whether or not it happens, it keeps me hopeful for the future, any future. Hopeful that things will look up in time, I just have to wait it out and hold strong.