Wednesday, February 29, 2012


So one of the things that been happening lately is that Curt and I are looking for a house. We've never done that before so it's been an interesting, intense process.

(Then again, I'm not sure if I can do anything or feel anything without it being Intense to the MAX.)

My parents adore houses. We rarely traveled when I was a kid, but we went to open houses, we visited new construction sites, we did house tours, and drove around my parents favorite neighborhoods and picked out which house each of us would live in.

I remember hours spent in stores where my parents lovingly picked out furniture or new curtains. Melissa and I sat on stools and kicked our short legs as we flipped through the giant books at the wallpaper store, entertaining ourselves by choosing our favorite papers and matching borders (hey, it was the 80s).

We used to stare at my mom's home decorating magazines. I used to cut images out of the older ones and make collages of my dream house and show them proudly to my mom, who always encouraged us to visualize what we wanted.

In the spring and summer, my parents would spend Saturday mornings gardening and mowing while Melissa and I devised elaborate games in which whomever was pushing the lawnmower was a monster and the gardener was a scheming sorcerer, gathering ingredients for a spell.

My mom taught me the names of flowers and herbs, which she dried in our garage and twisted into beautiful wreaths. We picked sun-warmed cherry tomatoes and gathered them in our oversized t-shirts or ate them straight off the vine.

All my life, I've wanted a home of my own. Floating from apartment to apartment, I have no desire to leave my mark on a place. I want the home to be mine. Then, finally, I will till the soil and see if I inherited any of my mom's hedge witch magic (and whether or not I can overcome my fear of spiders for the sake of the flowers).

I want to paint the walls, maybe add a Windling tree. I want to unpack my beloved books, which are still locked up in boxes. I feel oddly lonely without them. And I want a house so that we can finally finally FINALLY get a dog.

I want to plant roots and put down roots of my own.


  1. Me too. A place I can paint and decorate at all, a space where I can plant what I'd like (maybe cucumbers, or zucchini), and where I can blast the music throughout the house so I can hear it no matter what room I'm in.

  2. Word. Also: Loud music!! I miss it so much.