511 5th street

If you sweep a house, and tend its fires and fill its stove, and there is love in you all the years you are doing this, then you and that house are married, that house is yours.”
― Truman Capote


If I had spent a few decades of my life on a windswept prairie, in a small farmhouse that got so dusty that it had to be dusted twice a day, I would have thought I hit the big time when I moved into town.

Especially if I had survived the depression and a war and 4 teenagers and farm life.

I am not sure, that I would, after living in a small house with my husband for all that time, want to have matching his and hers wood-hobby shops, but some husbands have a better temperament than mine and I could probably be convinced if there was a dog run with a porch swing between them.

I would have wanted a pink bathroom of my own. With creamy formica coutertops with little gold specs in them. I am not sure if my bathroom cabinets would have been as neat, but I would definitely have pink floral towels and a dixie cup holder. Got to have the dixie cup holder. I would probably have one in my husband's bathroom too, and it would be a good idea to have that by the back door, in case he came home from the filling station and was dirty, or what have you.

And don't you know I would have a green house. I'd have to have a place for my fiddle leaf fig. And my geraniums--more people kill geraniums by loving them to death, just leave those plants alone.

Not sure about the red shag carpeting. But what we think of red shag carpeting is what people will some day think of stainless steel appliances. Why anyone would want one of those cold things in their home is beyond me. E-gad.

I would have a guest room, but also fold out sofas and a murphy bed. I was invited to stay somewhere once where they didn't have a bed for me and, well, that just ain't cricket, folks. So I would have lots of places to sit and be comfortable.

And a little table for the grandkids to sit at and make paper dolls. And a little blue bear.

Now, after having spent years in the kitchen cooking and never getting to be part of the fun, I would probably have what they call nowadays "great rooms" I'd just call it good sense. I would keep little depression glass goblets on the windowsill too, because when the sun shines on them, it makes them ever prettier.

Yes, not many people are lucky enough to get to build their dreamhouse. Especially after so long on the farm. Some people start out with a nice house--but where is the fun in that? I probably would think about it a lot while I was on the farm. Especially that summer my son and I accidentally shared a toothbrush in that 'ol durn bathroom.

And even when I was in it, I would always be tinkering with it, because a house is never done, not really.

Of course, 20 years is a long time to live in it all alone. A mighty long time. But I think I would fight like hell to keep it. Because it was our dream house.

And because I am stubborn and somewhat impractical. And I can't respect anyone that can't hold a grudge.