I want to set up my own Christmas tree. Or not. I want to have to do the dishes, and be able to put them away wherever and however I see fit. I want to have to go into a different room to pick a movie. I want to be able to buy artwork for the walls. I want an entertainment center that can hold all of our gaming systems, controllers, games, and other accessories. I want to be able to stock my own refrigerator. I want a room where I can leave all my scrapbook supplies and projects out, guilt-free. I want a closet where I have spare sheets and pillowcases, a stack of towels and washcloths, and rows of candles. I want a washer and dryer.
I want to have to call my mother and ask how many pounds of beef she used to use to make meatloaf, and what was that secret ingredient? I want to walk around in a big Tshirt and not be judged. I want a sofa. I want a basement that is not moldy and dirt-ridden. I want a dog. I want to have to mow the lawn or weed the garden. I want a good sound system and a place to store the collection of music that I don’t have in an aesthetically pleasing way. I want a place where both of our cars can have a roof over their heads. I want to be able to clean the shower, and know that it will stay clean because I’ll do it again tomorrow. I want to have a place to put my clean clothes. I want to be able to come home and know what to expect, and to be pleased with what I find.
I want to open my mailbox and see our names, and only ours, on everything we receive. I want to call Dad for help fixing my brakes or changing the motor oil. I want to be able to stay up until I’m ready for bed and not have to be worried about waking others because I tripped over something they left on the floor in the kitchen. I want to rest assured that the food in the cabinets is neither expired nor something I know we’ll never eat. I want to have a five-gallon glass penny-jug. I want to be able to eat at the kitchen table. I want to scrub the floors and vacuum the carpet. I want to host Thanksgiving dinner, and do all the work for a change, instead of my aging grandmother. I want a room full of books. I want him to have a room all to himself, just as I want a room all for me.
I want to have to call my mother and ask how many pounds of beef she used to use to make meatloaf, and what was that secret ingredient? I want to walk around in a big Tshirt and not be judged. I want a sofa. I want a basement that is not moldy and dirt-ridden. I want a dog. I want to have to mow the lawn or weed the garden. I want a good sound system and a place to store the collection of music that I don’t have in an aesthetically pleasing way. I want a place where both of our cars can have a roof over their heads. I want to be able to clean the shower, and know that it will stay clean because I’ll do it again tomorrow. I want to have a place to put my clean clothes. I want to be able to come home and know what to expect, and to be pleased with what I find.
I want to open my mailbox and see our names, and only ours, on everything we receive. I want to call Dad for help fixing my brakes or changing the motor oil. I want to be able to stay up until I’m ready for bed and not have to be worried about waking others because I tripped over something they left on the floor in the kitchen. I want to rest assured that the food in the cabinets is neither expired nor something I know we’ll never eat. I want to have a five-gallon glass penny-jug. I want to be able to eat at the kitchen table. I want to scrub the floors and vacuum the carpet. I want to host Thanksgiving dinner, and do all the work for a change, instead of my aging grandmother. I want a room full of books. I want him to have a room all to himself, just as I want a room all for me.
In short, I’ve lived in the same room, in the same house, for my entire life. But priorities win out, all the time.
No comments:
Post a Comment