Stephanie Pearce: Visions of grandeur
July 12, 2015
When I was a child, I romanticized and daydreamed about so many things. I had visions of how life would be as an adult. I had ideas in my head about where I would get married, where I would live, and especially what my house would look like.
Up the river from our ranch used to sit a grand yellow house. It was two stories, had a porch out front and had these rooms upstairs with bay windows. My grandma told me that some of her children were born at that ranch. I don't know if it was in that house that she gave birth, but I imagined what it would have been like to live there and have children there.
One day when I was about 12, I was allowed to walk through the old house. It was in some sorry shape, but I was still in awe over it. The woodwork amazed me. I ran my hand over as much of it as I could. I loved the feeling of the smooth wood, and I thought about all the work and love that went into making this beautiful house a home. The staircase that led upstairs had the most beautiful handrail. It led to two bedrooms; one with windows to the east and the other with windows to the west.
These empty bedrooms left my imagination to run wild. I sat in the middle of the floor and envisioned how I would decorate them with canopy beds and toile; red for one room and blue for the other. I went to the window in the west room and the sun was just starting to go down, leaving a beautiful glow in the room like something from a movie.
The rooms downstairs had some built in shelves, and I could imagine one room to be a library/study and another to be the dining room. The kitchen was pretty bare, leaving my imagination to run wild. I could see it decorated with a farmhouse sink and a white stove from the 1930s. The cupboards would be white and there would be a baker's cabinet on one short wall. I would have a butcher block table in the middle of the room for informal eating and I would use to roll out my dough for pies and knead my bread on it.
I imagined a swing on the white porch that would be surrounded with wild yellow rose bushes. Lilacs would surround the yard along with a white picket fence that would be tall enough to keep the cows out. I could just smell the splendorous odors those bushes would permeate at the end of a long, hard day while I relaxed in my swing.
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The house is long gone, but the vision is still there. Walking through that house gave me the homiest feelings like none I've ever had before. It was as if I could feel all the love that had traveled through there in the years that it had stood. It's not the house that I dream of now, but the feeling that it gave me and the dreams it let me dream. It's amazing to me how a structure can leave such an impression for so many years.