Dream. Home.

Dream homes.

Everyone has their own idea of what their dream home is. For me, I had long clipped out photos (and now Pin them) of spacious, rustic homes filled with beautiful furniture, tastefully decorated sweeping, beautiful views, big porches, gourmet kitchens, soaking tubs.

$$$

I’ve found that my definition of my dream home has changed over the years. I won’t say evolved. That’s not true. More accurately, it has de-volved, come into a frame of reality. And I find myself okay with that.

I wasn’t initially. When we first bought the ranch just over 6 years ago, complete with its falling-down barns and 26+ year old modular home, the thought was we would live in the house for a while then tear it down and build our dream home. You know, the spacious one with the upscale finishes, open floor plan and gourmet kitchen.

Then we got to thinking, The Tinker and I. We are both in our 50s. Our 50s are not a time to be thinking about taking on a $300K mortgage, at least not with the modest incomes we both make. So we adjusted. This is a perfectly good modular home, as my mother would say. “Perfectly good” was her phrase for anything that the normal person would toss away but she saw value in. Having been raised during the Depression, she saw value in a lot of things we didn’t. Cool Whip containers, food years past its expiration date, cans of flat soda.

So we adjusted.

We looked at our perfectly good 26+ year old modular home with new eyes. Okay, we can fix the undulating subfloor with the soft spots, hoping that it’s not too structural. We can tear up the broken tile and stained carpeting and lay down

We’d already begun work here, really not too bad (if you don’t look too close). But how can you beat that porch!

engineered hardwood. Wait, make that wood plank vinyl. We can convert the central part of the house into a large open space by demolishing a pantry and building an island, tearing down a wall and installing sliders out to the pool. We can tear down the den addition that leaks where the rooflines meet, and reeks when the carpeting gets wet, and build a master suite with an ADA compliant bath. And porches. And a proper garage. And.

And.

And is an expensive word. And costs time. And costs money.

So I step back again. What is a dream house? What is MY dream house, now, at my age, where we are?

My dream house now is mortgage-free. Owning our home and property outright. My dream house has space for us and our animals, inside and out. My dream house is where our friends and family feel welcome, comfortable. Where we can cook

The View. No other words needed.

wonderful meals and put up the bounty of our gardens. Where we don’t worry if we track mud in after putting out hay for the cows on a soggy evening.

Sure, I’d like to have some of the Ands. Maybe we will someday. But right here, right now, we have what we need. We’re patching it, painting it, scraping it, caulking it, pressure washing it, rewiring it, staining it, holding it together. Believe me, there are times we swear at it. And yet we still have time, take time, make time most evenings, to sit on the porch, look out at our beautiful view, scratch some cats, hold hands, and say to each other, “I can’t imagine living anywhere else.” And if that’s not a dream, I don’t know what is.

Tags: dream homehomesimple life