Spike showed me pictures like this one awhile back and I went completely Pinterest-nuts over finding everything I could on converted warehouses. I love this like I love my own soul. It reminds me of how I designed our wedding invitations. We only invited about 40 people, so we only had to make a couple dozen invitations. And they were awesome. I had the invitation printed on metal and then I wrapped each one in satin and ribbon. It matched us perfectly: Spike the metal worker, and me the lover of soft and delicate things.
A home like this would fits us like nothing else would. We’ve considered the tiny house idea, but as introverts, we need more space between people. The more space the better, really. We need a fortress of solitude (yes, like Superman). We’re homebodies, so why shouldn’t our home be a castle?
I adore the white linens and white stairs. People think it’s hard to keep clean, but have you ever tried to keep dark colors looking crisp? The moment there’s a spec of dust, it looks shabby. White is easy to match too. White towels, white bed sheets, white drapes. It looks so clean and fresh! I don’t know if I could do the white couches and chairs though. I don’t think people would be as likely to feel relaxed if they think they’re going to mess up my furniture, including me.
I could never live in a home like this with just one or a few other people. But what if we were Fostering? We’ve talked about being Foster parents before. Spike even became a approved Foster parent in another state to get our girls out of the system before we were married. My eyes have sparkled to think of taking kids out of the system who are about to age-out; to give them a place to finally feel safe and accepted and supported.
And what if I was an MBA and Spike was a mechanical engineer, which is the path we’re on now? We could offer the world to those kids. They might not take it. They might hate us for trying. But some might latch on to the opportunities. Some might come alive to see how their life could be. We could teach them mechanics, bookkeeping, customer service skills, and even just basic life skills to give them a handle on being full-fledged adults.
Of course, this all sounds so easy in a dream, but it feels like a dream that’s been building since I was first told I would never have children of my own – ten years ago. There’s that number again. Ten. That same year a woman I trusted said she saw a vision when she was praying for me. It was night and there was a house with a single light in the window, and the light never went out. Ten years. I had no idea what it meant then. Could this be the house with the light that will forever welcome people home?
The plan no longer includes having babies, but it doesn’t discount the idea that I could be Mama Spike someday.