Some days, when I’m having a particularly rough time I close my eyes and sit perfectly still, and if I’m lucky the hustle and bustle of the office disappears leaving only me with my thoughts. It is in these moments that I do my dreaming.
I plot out a life full of creating, capturing and loving. Of homemade dinners and family get togethers. Of herb gardens and weathered hardcover books. It is a life in which I find peace, comfort and limitless love; and I know – without a shadow of doubt – that you will always be right there beside me as we chase down our dreams… together.
Yesterday morning for one reason or another I found myself thinking about what our home says about us; what conclusions would a stranger come to about our lives if they walked through our front door?
These thoughts led me to begin to ruminate on how and what I define myself by. I had previously written about how I too often define my life by how it compares to others’
and I’m working on correcting this, I really am; but what do others see when they glance into my world?
If you step through our front door there won’t be anything that immediately gives us away (except maybe that we’re obviously not into clutter). A solitary table/chair is all you will really see. But walk a little further and you’ll see bookshelves, the photographs on the wall, and all of the movies shelved above the television. You will make assumptions based on those items, and they will probably be correct.
If you travel into the kitchen and perhaps pull open the fridge you will notice that it is a little bare, indicating that we’ve gotten a little busy over the past couple weeks. You may find my binder full of my favorite recipes and deduce that I enjoy cooking.
If you wander up the stairs you’ll notice empty rooms just awaiting the family that will certainly grow over coming years. You’ll spot my work area and camera equipment, the stacks of photographs lined up along the wall – a dead giveaway. You will find the drums and guitars and all of the sheet music belonging to my husband and quickly understand where his passion lay. A quick glance at the wall of shoes and a look into our closet will surely give away my love for clothes.
But my question is: does any of this actually give you a sense of who we really are? And if not – is that a bad thing?