Little Girl Games

I still like to play games, little kid games. I am talking about the kind of nonsense I played with Trista. Tuesday I attempted an old game silently in my mind as I drove D-man to school in a neighborhood filled with beautiful houses. It was a game of little girl imagination along the lines of how many kids do you want to have? What do you want to be when you grow up? It was which house do you want to live in?

I always chose the little white one beside Dr. McDonalds' (both of them) office in downtown Bolivar. The one with the Bolivar sign in the front yard. It was the way they manicured the lawn with kris-cross perfection, and kept the home freshly painted. These people LOVED their home. It wasn't decadent. Ironically, my parents' home was four, maybe six times as big- with a HUGE swimming pool.

On the drive to Dylan's school, I thought what a great life visualization exercise. What is my favorite home in this incredible neighborhood near Dylan's school; Only to be frustrated by my inability to choose. None of the houses were my favorite house. I felt slightly defeated. Why couldn't I choose? It's an easy game.

Lets bring this ship into port. I sat on my porch swing this morning watching the pups do their bidness. Two middle school girls walked by. One paused in the sidewalk and turned to me, "Your house is beautiful. It's my favorite house. I look at it everyday.” And blough like a steam roller- it hit me.

My home is my favorite house. I love this house. I even told the girl, "Thank you. Thank you for telling me that you love my home. I love my home. I work on it all the time. This summer I climbed up onto the roof myself to paint the trim."

Just like the people in the little house in Bolivar, I love my home. Apparently that love is something that little girl's dreams are made of. I'm living my own dream. Bliss.

Now off to make money to pay for that paint (wink). Special thanks to my Grandma Jeanne for the love that she put into my life and home. I am grateful.