I’m feeling the desire to move. I’ve lived in this house longer than I have lived anywhere else in my life — a whopping eight years. I thought my last stint at five and a half years was long, but this is beginning to feel like an eternity.
There are a few things holding us back from moving. Silly things like we have to finish fixing up the house so we can sell it (unlikely in this market) or rent it out, we have little money saved and we have no idea where we would go.
In my daydreams, I envision a sunny place with low humidity, 75-85 degrees year-round, near the ocean and life at a slower pace. Not sure if that place exists, but people always tell me that I’d miss the change in seasons. I assure them that I will not miss any kind of cold weather at all, ever. Oh yes, you will. Oh no, I won’t. I’ve been in Hawaii at Christmastime and flown back to a not-so-aloha two feet of snow. Seriously… I won’t.
I will admit that I do like autumn in this area, probably because it’s usually the most temperate part of the year, plus the colors are fantastic. However, if I were to miss autumn’s beauty, I could always look at beautiful fall photos for my fix and thank the Lord that I no longer have to rake the bizillion leaves that fall into our yard each year beginning around this time.
If my daydream paradise ever became a reality, the only thing I would miss around here would be my family and friends — not the too-cold winters, not the too-hot-and-humid summers, not the hustle-bustle of self-importance so rampant in this area — nothing but the people I love. Of course, part of the fantasy is that we are fabulously wealthy, so creating a way for loved ones to visit or stay and live near us wouldn’t be a problem.
Alas, we won’t be moving or becoming any kind of wealthy anytime in the near future, but a girl should have some dreams, don’t you think?
One more part of the daydream is that no one I care about ever gets sick ever again. Yesterday, a man that I absolutely adored was welcomed into the arms of Jesus. He left his cancer-ridden body behind and now is whole again. I read in an email that he died with a smile on his face. If we could get a glimpse of the glory he is in, would we feel as sad as we do? I don’t know, even Jesus cried at Lazarus’ tomb.
All in all, my utopian daydream is just that — a dream in this life. Thanks to a little conversation with my dad, I have begun to wonder if this dream of mine is an imprint of God’s promised future hope in me. Peace, beauty, prosperity, love, health … sounds heavenly.