If life were a fairytale and every wish I ever had came true...
I leave the farmer's market and come home to a long, winding driveway, trees lining the path. As I round the last curve, my breath catches in my throat at the sight of it. Our home. Even though I've seen it hundreds of times, it still amazes me every time I catch a glimpse of it, every time I remember. This is our home.
I collect bags from our shopping trip and watch as my children run into the house, laughing, chasing each other. Walking up the cobblestone path, leaves crunch underfoot. As I ascend the front steps, past the pumpkins decorating the porch, and through the front door, the smells of Autumn arrest me and I stop to breathe it in...cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger. Somewhere in the distance, I hear a giggle turn into a belly laugh as my babies wrestle in the family room; I pause, trying to imprint this into permanence.
I invite you to follow me to the kitchen and you take a seat at the table. "Would you like tea or hot cocoa?" I ask, but I already know the answer. We've been friends too long for me to not know. The kettle goes on the stove and we wait for the whistle. After a cup of tea and a long talk about everything that matters, you leave to go home to your own fairytale and I make dinner for my lovies, now doing homework at the kitchen table.
When my husband returns home from work, the kids run headlong into him and he picks them up in a big bear hug, a wide smile crossing his face. Later, after dinner and warm baths, we'll sit by the fire and read bedtime stories. My husband will carry them to their beds and we'll tuck them in, together whispering prayers in their ears.
In the morning, I get up to stroll through the garden in the quiet early light. I feel the chill of the young day seep through my jacket and I push my hands deeper into my pockets. Somewhere nearby a bird chirps cheerfully, preparing for her departure. Winter is coming. This won't be her home much longer. But it will be here when she returns next spring. It will always be here, come spring.
What is your fairytale?
Inspired by this post...photos found at CountryLiving.com.