the simple minded suburbanite

Doll House
February 21, 2010, 2:16 am
Filed under: suburbanite | Tags: , ,

I stopped frozen.  In the window was the most beautiful little masterpiece I had ever seen, an exquisitely magical, little house with window panes and white trim and tiny spindles that led up the front porch.  My mother took my small hand and led me from the window to the store inside.  I crawled up onto the ledge and peered into the perfect little rooms.  I opened the tiny little doors by their tiny little door knobs.  Behind me, my mother asked the sales lady the price, which I don’t remember, but I do remember my mother’s suddenly slumped posture.  It was too much.  Outside the store again, she allowed me to linger at the window only for a few more minutes before we were off to the car. 

I loved that doll house.  Instantly.  Truly.

And when my grandparents carried it out into their living room on my 6th birthday, I felt a love so great for the house, for my family, for the knowledge that I was loved enough for them to make this dream come true.

Yesterday, I carried my dollhouse up from my basement.  The working lamps, in deteriorating shoe boxes.  The little cookies still in the cookie jar.  The walls papered with wrapping paper, the lace curtains stitched by my mother.

She brought it to me when I was pregnant with my first baby, convinced it would be a girl.  He was not.  neither were the other two.  So, in the basement my dollhouse stayed until we moved into our current home and the movers took it to yet another basement.

Until yesterday, when, I don’t know what possessed me to look at it. Really look at it, sad and a bit chipped, empty, sitting on the basement floor next to red and green boxes of Christmas decorations and a bin of the boys outgrown shoes.  But I took it in my arms and lumbered up the steps with it.  Set it on a table in the family room and stared at it in pure shock.   Why had I not noticed it before?

It is an exact replica of my pretty little yellow house we live in today.  The home we live in now.  The home where I am raising my sweet little family.  The first house we have ever owned that we felt was truly a home.  All for the color.  My dollhouse is blue.  But the windows, the same.  The pitch of the roof, the same.  The front porch.  The layout.  Exactly the same.  And it hit me.

I am living my dream. 

I have all that I had ever dreamed of as a little girl.

I have cookies in the cookie jar.  I have pretty curtains (in some rooms).  I have a fireplace that crackles and a little family with smiles on their faces.

I am living my dream.

So, to honor my little girl dreams, my pretty little yellow house, and all they represent, I’m going to fix up my doll house.  I may not be able to afford a basement remodel.  We may not be in a position to HGTV my backyard living space, but I can brush a coat of paint, snaz up a little wall, tack up a little curtain.  My tastes may have changed since age six, leaning away from country cozy to eclectic, but I think I will have fun bringing my dream house back to life, and reminding myself of all my dreams come true.  How thankful I am to whoever or whatever is at work.  And how important it is to realize all that has been lain on my plate.  Praise to that little doll house.  Blessings on my pretty, little, yellow house.  And, as a side note, how happy I am that I never dreamed of a McMansion when I was a little girl.

What dreams have you lived in your life without even realizing it?

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