House of Dreams

Posts with this symbol are an experiment. Read with love.
Posts with this symbol are an experiment. Read with love.

Challenge: Tell us about the home where you lived when you were twelve.

House of Dreams

We slept on the brown carpet in our sleeping bags. The living room, like the rest of the house, was devoid of furniture and obstructions and shouted its welcome through the empty spaces. My family celebrated by spending the night with basic necessities: sleeping bags, pillows, toothbrush, a loaf of bread, and a toaster.

We’d get the rest of our belongings in the morning, this night was ours to be free. The moon smiled on us and the reflection on the lake doubled its sentiment.

The little brown house was our box of liberty and success. It boasted no grandiose floor plans or trappings, but was equipped to house a family in comfort and pride. The interior walls were the color of a cool afternoon, which we absorbed through our pores until sleep arrived.

Sunlight shone on our faces in the early morning. Gazing at the view of our future, the lake would remain a calm backdrop amidst the trials and love of family life. New beginnings and old hardships melted into a family unit that were celebrated together for many years.

I’m lucky to be able to visit this space of memories and moons. The years have passed but the lake remains, and the house stands as a celebration of family. This little brown box built on love and dreams.





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