Talk about the passion

We got the house we always wanted but sometimes fantasized about having another, smaller one so we could re-experience life that way without the burden of having to do it full time. That happened on my morning walks to the lake past the big, lakefront place with the mother-in-law at the top of the driveway, a cheery green with warm, golden lights and a young couple squatting there for COVID with their parents in the main house on the lake. They had two dogs and looked healthy, like they didn’t have bad habits or kids like us. Bright and bubbly with their parkas in the pre-dawn dark with their dogs wearing glow-in-the-dark bracelets around their necks like you’d see at concerts or amusement parks. They had a small camper van by the mother-in-law too and probably traveled a lot, working high-paying consultant jobs for a few hours a day and then spending the rest of their time doing yoga or napping. Having dinner with the folks at the main house…a glass of wine, maybe two.

We could put up a structure like that too, we often dreamt, and if we did it would go on the sports court because the sports court felt lavish and bombastic and never got any real use. It was flat, big enough for a nice-sized cabin or art studio we could fix up with cots and wool blankets, maybe a small, wood-burning stove. The kids would want to use it with their friends and boyfriends of course and that would be problematic. We could put guests out there or my mom when she visits. And of course I could go there from time to time to hide.

Life was often somewhere else, it seemed. Detached units, dwelling structures. Looking back, but never quite finding it.

Categories: Memoir, prose, writing

Tags: , , , ,

13 replies

  1. Well, it’s definitely somewhere else for the rest of us. But you strike me as quite present. My wife insists she is in need of a she-shack, and I’ve come to agree. Although the first time she mentioned it I thought she said Sleestack.

    Liked by 1 person

    • She-stack is good, really good. Can’t resist “sally sells seashells by the…” or my personal favorite, Betty bought a bit of butter but she said my butter’s bitter…I bet if I bought a better batter, my butter wouldn’t be so bitter.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. How pleasant to let our thoughts drift without a hook to hinder. Writers do indulge in such unhindered flow of wings to nowhere. It’s amusing. And readers enjoy such free fly monitored by the writers.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I always like the real estate ads in UK and Canada, with their “Semi-Detached Homes,” I always envision them full of emotionally distant, sophisticated people, drifting in & out, glasses of dry sherry, speaking in ironic, dry terms, telling each other, perhaps best not to dwell upon it.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. I’m always amazed at folks living in their camper vans, telecommuting or blogging(!) for work, untethered, nomadic and romantic types. Homes and property are pretty demanding, but they also offer us reliable shelter and a never ending stream of projects as we refine them and hone them into the place that functions and feels just right to us…and then we move, lol. At least that is how it’s worked for us. Enjoy the rain Bill. It is turning the grass green again.

    Liked by 1 person

    • The rain is quite something! Pineapple Express again, crazy! Good time to have a good roof, to your point…makes me want to cook a stew and open a bottle of red. Though it’s still technically pesto season at our place.

      Liked by 2 people

  5. Always to have a comfortable house and designing as per aesthetic taste with dogs as companions. Absolutely love reading this piece, Bill

    Liked by 2 people

  6. Where we live, how we live, who we live with. Loved your fantasy lifestyle; a glass of wine or maybe two. Talk about the passion, and we did.
    Cheers, mate.

    Liked by 2 people

  7. I’m just here for the REM headline.

    Liked by 2 people

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