I can't wait for a house. A place to make and call home. Lately, I've been letting the girls dig holes in the dirt just outside our apartment. I've been letting them roam the ramp; riding their scooters and bikes down as fast as they can.
But cement wheel chair ramps are not hillsides. Dwarfed, manicured trees are not the green of childhood.
I can't wait to take hold of our space - to find antiques at yard sales, paint them and reclaim them; retell their stories. Every wall, every curtain rod, every floor- OURS.
Maybe it's nesting; or maybe it's something more, but here's the small taste of home we've built for ourselves in our little dorm apartment. One day, it will be an old bungalow in the suburbs of Seattle. For now, it's a little paint and a few old finds cluttered into industrial carpets and counters.
No comments:
Post a Comment