Living in a Dream

The view from my home in the morning

Today I walked the kids to the bus stop which is right beside the ocean.  I said to them "look at that ocean!" to which Martina replied, "we live in a dream!"

What a beautiful sentiment.  Sometimes a 7 year old has a better perspective, a better grasp on appreciation than adults who lose their way when the world seems more of a nightmare than a dream.  This week, with the events on the news, the talk of guns and violence against children and the sadness of what is happening to our neighbours south of the border, it's difficult to stay in a positive optimistic mood.  Particularly when the powers that can make change seem to remain inert and unwilling to do so.

But no amount of our misery can make another happy.  Christmas is upon us, our family is healthy and our move is well over half done.  We are living in a small apartment with our new house becoming available on Christmas Eve when the current tenants leave.  It's this house, the upper level so the rest of the move will consist of renovations, painting and then filling it full of new furniture.  We are very excited.  We will be debt free when it's all done and our business income will be higher than before.

And finally I will be able to fully concentrate on my writing career.  Without going into details, it is all coming together on that end.  I have a commitment to write my second novel and it looks like my second poetry collection will be available before Valentine's day, appropriate since it's a collection of love poetry.

The house has 5 bedrooms, one of which will be my writing room.  I let the girls choose first and they left me the upper level gable room that faces the ocean.  Exciting.  I'm planning on working on a collection of Newfoundland inspired poetry next.

Just over two years ago when I first decided that it was time to move back home, that this is where my heart is and where I needed to be to fulfill my dreams, I had a picture of how it would look.  That photograph in my mind has developed, become clearer and clearer like one of those Polaroids that develops as you watch, showing with clarity, what has been captured.  You can only point and shoot and trust that it develops into something good. The picture is still developing, as life here unfolds, but so far I am loving our new home. 

Last night I spent the evening wrapping 46 little gifts that we had hand made for the kids' new friends and teachers.  The little tree we bought was lit and the house was filled with the sound of Christmas music.  The girls giggled and wrapped and cut and argued and the cat played with ribbon and cellophane while the puppy guarded the chocolate and marshmallow dipped spoons and hot chocolate with his fluffy life.  It was not a movie of the week evening.  It was a perfect, real and imperfect family evening.

For years I have awakened at night  with the overwhelming smell of wood burning.  I was told it was an auditory hallucination.  I've always felt it was so much more.  Now I consider that it was perhaps a premonition.

For when I walk in the evening, listening to the ocean wrap itself around the shoreline and pulley clotheslines with their scroop scroop scroop blowing in the breeze, it is smell of the woodsmoke in the air that gives me the greatest feeling of being at home.  It is on those clear evenings when the stars are bright and the moon hangs that I know with the certainty of a seven year old, that we do indeed, live in a dream.