Today, Martin and I walked through soupy fog, under blooming trees, past crowds of students by the high school, down the wide gravel path behind the fields, and into one of our favorite neighborhoods. We chatted about his students and about the benefits and limitations of doing what you love despite the money, or lack thereof.
Then we walked past a familiar, wide, tree-lined street and followed a For Sale sign to a large house with a fenced back yard. The outside of the house was not particularly charming, but the flier out front showed that everything inside was redone and beautiful; the house boasted not only large windows and wood floors but a great kitchen, an open living space and four bedrooms--all for under three grand, which is saying a lot for this area.
"Bet this gets snapped up," Martin said casually, as we turned around and continued on our walk. I knew that we were not ready to buy a house, even a great deal in a perfect location with a fabulous amount of space and a big kitchen. But how overwhelmed by clutter and how crowded I've felt with the kids through the winter. . .But how those expansive floors gleamed in the flier. . . .And how I wish I had an office and a guest room and a place to escape to other than a small portion of the kitchen floor, where I crouch sometimes with my tea to hide from the children. . . .
"I wish. . ." I started, and stopped. Enough! I tried to quiet my inner battle by shouting, "BE STILL, MY SOUL!!!!" This admonition did not stop the longing that was growing at an alarming rate, so I hit myself a few times. "BE STILL, MY SOUL! SHUT UP-SHUT UP-SHUT UP-SHUT UP!"
I am glad nobody was walking near to hear my insanity. Everyone has inner voices but some of us do not need to shout them down quite so audibly.
"The world is made up of ideas!" I continued, and Martin chuckled. "I just had a Matrix moment," I said, wishing it were true.
"Everything translated into binary code?" Martin asked.
"Yup." It is the idea of the big house I love, the idea of space I love. I tell myself this. I remind myself of the charm of our little red house.
And now, sitting here at this table, listening to Martin tinker in the kitchen and waiting for a fresh cup of tea, I am happy. On the table, ruffled tulips the color of butter open slowly. Perhaps I will burn the house flier that I folded and slipped into my pocket. It is just a lot of color and words, nothing more. Outside the fog is finally lifting from the arms of the pine trees, and blue sky shows behind. Shut up, my soul.
Then we walked past a familiar, wide, tree-lined street and followed a For Sale sign to a large house with a fenced back yard. The outside of the house was not particularly charming, but the flier out front showed that everything inside was redone and beautiful; the house boasted not only large windows and wood floors but a great kitchen, an open living space and four bedrooms--all for under three grand, which is saying a lot for this area.
"Bet this gets snapped up," Martin said casually, as we turned around and continued on our walk. I knew that we were not ready to buy a house, even a great deal in a perfect location with a fabulous amount of space and a big kitchen. But how overwhelmed by clutter and how crowded I've felt with the kids through the winter. . .But how those expansive floors gleamed in the flier. . . .And how I wish I had an office and a guest room and a place to escape to other than a small portion of the kitchen floor, where I crouch sometimes with my tea to hide from the children. . . .
"I wish. . ." I started, and stopped. Enough! I tried to quiet my inner battle by shouting, "BE STILL, MY SOUL!!!!" This admonition did not stop the longing that was growing at an alarming rate, so I hit myself a few times. "BE STILL, MY SOUL! SHUT UP-SHUT UP-SHUT UP-SHUT UP!"
I am glad nobody was walking near to hear my insanity. Everyone has inner voices but some of us do not need to shout them down quite so audibly.
"The world is made up of ideas!" I continued, and Martin chuckled. "I just had a Matrix moment," I said, wishing it were true.
"Everything translated into binary code?" Martin asked.
"Yup." It is the idea of the big house I love, the idea of space I love. I tell myself this. I remind myself of the charm of our little red house.
And now, sitting here at this table, listening to Martin tinker in the kitchen and waiting for a fresh cup of tea, I am happy. On the table, ruffled tulips the color of butter open slowly. Perhaps I will burn the house flier that I folded and slipped into my pocket. It is just a lot of color and words, nothing more. Outside the fog is finally lifting from the arms of the pine trees, and blue sky shows behind. Shut up, my soul.
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