Little Pink Houses
I know it's an illusion. I know I'm kidding myself, yet I can't help myself. I live in a really nice neighborhood. It's easily the nicest place I have ever lived. There's a walking trail around the neighborhood and a community basketball court and playground. You can walk at all times of the day or night and not worry about safety. This is how the upper middle middle class live. At least in my opinion. All of the houses are two story and have two car garages. And, incidentally, all are decidedly out of my price range. About $160,00 out of my price range. I can't imagine ever being able to afford to live here for real. Unless I marry really, really well, but I just don't have that kind of luck.
Ok, back to my illusion... As I walk the neighborhood, which I do most days, I think that if I could afford one of these houses I would never be unhappy. I look at the nice cars parked in drive ways, see lights burning pleasantly in windows, and smell dinner cooking. And I wonder and I wish... What would it be like? What if I had the money? What if one of these houses was mine? Actually I have one picked out. I can see it from my bedroom window. While all the houses look kind of alike, I like this one better than the others. It's dark brown with flagstone and high pitched roof. It's empty and for sale, but I know I could never afford to buy it. The house payment would probably be around $2000/month, three times what I pay for my house in Wake Village. Happiness, at least the kind that comes with a two car garage, is a bit out of reach.
Unless my financial path changes drastically. Which I don't expect it to do. Besides, I'm about having less more than I'm about having more. I like my five year old truck and my dumpy little house on Burma . A house in this neighborhood, while nice and welcoming, would most definitely constitute "more". A lot more. In truth, I don't need three bedroom, two and a half baths, a loft/office, and two car garage. What would I do with all that space? Half fill it with all my second furniture? Still, though, as I sit here in the loft office writing, I wish this house was mine. Well, I wish the one across the street was. Because I'm certain I'd be happy there.
I know it's ridiculous to think that a house in a nice neighborhood can buy happiness. I guess it's an illusion created by my unhappiness. I have nothing of my own at this point, except some clothes, my laptop, and my TV. This house, while comfortable, is not and will never be home. It's borrowed. Thankfully so, but borrowed nonetheless. I look at the houses on my walk and think about how lucky the people living in them are. They get to come home, eat dinner, and be with family. They get to sit on their porches, cut their lawns, and watch TV in their living rooms. They get to be happy.
I know in my heart that many of the people living here are unhappy. It's just the way the world is - few people are truly happy. And a nice house can only do so much. Still, though, I like to dream. I like to think that one day I will own a nice house in a nice neighborhood and I will be happy. Thoughts do occasionally become things so you never know. Stranger things have happened.
Ok, back to my illusion... As I walk the neighborhood, which I do most days, I think that if I could afford one of these houses I would never be unhappy. I look at the nice cars parked in drive ways, see lights burning pleasantly in windows, and smell dinner cooking. And I wonder and I wish... What would it be like? What if I had the money? What if one of these houses was mine? Actually I have one picked out. I can see it from my bedroom window. While all the houses look kind of alike, I like this one better than the others. It's dark brown with flagstone and high pitched roof. It's empty and for sale, but I know I could never afford to buy it. The house payment would probably be around $2000/month, three times what I pay for my house in Wake Village. Happiness, at least the kind that comes with a two car garage, is a bit out of reach.
Unless my financial path changes drastically. Which I don't expect it to do. Besides, I'm about having less more than I'm about having more. I like my five year old truck and my dumpy little house on Burma . A house in this neighborhood, while nice and welcoming, would most definitely constitute "more". A lot more. In truth, I don't need three bedroom, two and a half baths, a loft/office, and two car garage. What would I do with all that space? Half fill it with all my second furniture? Still, though, as I sit here in the loft office writing, I wish this house was mine. Well, I wish the one across the street was. Because I'm certain I'd be happy there.
I know it's ridiculous to think that a house in a nice neighborhood can buy happiness. I guess it's an illusion created by my unhappiness. I have nothing of my own at this point, except some clothes, my laptop, and my TV. This house, while comfortable, is not and will never be home. It's borrowed. Thankfully so, but borrowed nonetheless. I look at the houses on my walk and think about how lucky the people living in them are. They get to come home, eat dinner, and be with family. They get to sit on their porches, cut their lawns, and watch TV in their living rooms. They get to be happy.
I know in my heart that many of the people living here are unhappy. It's just the way the world is - few people are truly happy. And a nice house can only do so much. Still, though, I like to dream. I like to think that one day I will own a nice house in a nice neighborhood and I will be happy. Thoughts do occasionally become things so you never know. Stranger things have happened.
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