posted on: February 8, 2010
A friend of mine really loves nighttime drives. Good thing, because I'm a terrible night driver.
But, a little while ago, we drove on the foothills of Provo in mostly silence.
Silence only interrupted by:
"I love that house."
"I want a porch for my kids."
"Look at the color of that one."
"I will buy that house. I have to."
And because it was night, we could see the homes and their families, all lit up inside. We saw the dirty kitchens and the televisions flashing. I noticed some black-and-white photos on the wall. They were in thick, black frames on a tawny wall.
I always think of my future. My husband. My family. Etc. But now, I'm thinking of my house. My home. The place where we will dirty our counters together. And the place I will hang up my own black-and-whites of my own people. And I'll pick out chairs and rugs. Hopefully the boys won't care when I choose girly picture frames. Also, the plates will be white because I like those best. And we'll be lit up from inside.
I've never wanted anything more.
I've said that a lot, because sometimes I like to be dramatic.
I've said it about a purse. I've said it about a tea set. I've said it about London.
But really, this is what I want.
Just some people.
And a place.