Well. I finally fell in love. That's right. It's happened. This old heart of mine finally gave up its hard-boiled ways and said "Shoot Howdy! I'm done in!" (Yeah, my heart talks like that. Sounds like an old prospector.)
Ok, don't let me mislead you. Of course I have fallen in love before. I fell in love with my husband, thus the marrying and whatnot, and I fell in love with my little boy as soon as I met him, but this is the first time I have fallen in love with a house.
Wait...ok, that is not true either. I fell in love with the one I live in, that is why we bought it. And now that I think about it, there were a couple I lost my heart over before this one ever came along. Oh fine! I am a fickle fanny who is prone to lose her heart to the first charming man or house or baby that comes along! or food. Mmmmmm. Yeah, there are a few desserts I have definitely fallen in love with.
But let's focus! I'm here because I fell in love with a house. Yesterday. By some chance, I stumbled across the house of my dreams. Well, actually, I don't really know what the house is like. I was so enamored with the land it sat on, I barely glanced at the house. From the minute we started down the driveway, I knew it was true love. It wouldn't have mattered what the house was like. It was raining and I was on a runners high and that land with the 'For Sale' sign on it danced in front of me while "Dream Weaver" played in the background. I was whipped. (Whooped? Walloped? What is that word?)
And I was all ready to start packing up my house right away so that we could sell it and move, so I called the Realtor as soon as I got home and the house is going for only $450,000.00! It was a steal at any price, but I am going to tell you something I've never told anyone before and confess that we can't afford that. That's like a $4000.00 a month house payment. I checked.
So now I've been moping and pining for a house that I love, and can't have. And fantasizing. Lots of fantasizing. I picture the trees all covered with snow in the winter, and the yard filled with family and friends in the summer, and me and my husband running down to the stream with our pants rolled up - actually I'm in a sundress in this one - to dangle our feet in it. (Richard is always up for dangling his feet in a stream. In only the most manly of ways, of course.) I tried to tell myself that I was being silly, but I have finally decided that it is OK for me to be in love with it.
It is kind of like a 12 year old girl who falls in love with her young, single, art teacher. He is so much more mature that any of the boys she is surrounded by. She knows he is the one and she wants to marry him. And when she declares her undying love, he tells her that she is very "sweet" but way, way, way, too young. Her heart is broken and she swears she will never love another.
I am that 12 year old girl. I know right now that I will never stop loving this house, and no other house will ever come along that I will love as much. But in truth, when I am older, and richer, and actually in the market for a half a million dollar home, I will find the house that is right for me. I may even wonder what I ever saw in this house in the first place.
At this point in my life this house and I just were not meant to be. 12 year old girls should not get married no matter how much in love they are. And I should not sell my soul just so I can afford this house. But I can hold it up as an ideal so that when the time comes, I will know what I want. And though it might be a little pathetic for me to drive by this house from time to time (just like that guy's house that I always used to drive by in highschool) I am dumb like that(and so are most 12 year olds), and it is ok.