Dreaming of Decorating

I’ve heard some of my friends say they’ve dreamed of being mothers since they were little girls. 

Not me. 

I dreamed of having my own apartment.

I was a fourth-grader when I was invited to visit the apartment of my schoolteacher with my friend Jill, who happened to be my teacher’s sister. I was captivated by how the rooms flowed one into the other, with all the nooks and crannies. 

I loved the compact kitchen that didn’t have room for a table and chairs. I loved the counter and stool where you could eat. I especially loved the tiny balcony I could glimpse through the sliding glass doors.

I remember thinking that I couldn’t wait to grow up so I could have my own apartment, just like this one.

Now, several apartments, a condo, house and townhome later, I am still amazed that I have a place to call my own. 

A space I can decorate in my own style of French-girl-gone-shabby with my stash of treasured vintage objects. 

Although I’ve enjoyed every place I’ve lived, I think my current townhome is perfect. A courtyard where I can sit outside and enjoy my morning coffee. A gleaming white breakfast bar with ruby red chairs for meals in my kitchen. Two spacious closets in my bedroom that I have all to myself.

I am grateful for this life. Blessed. Overflowing. Sounds kind of nice.

Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; his love endures forever. Ps. 118:1