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Monday, December 28

Hope is My Middle Name

I've always been one for high hopes. I guess it comes with the red hair and the middle name they gave me.I've had dreams that seem impossible to most that I can see so clearly you'd think I was already living them. It's easy to get lost in the possibilities and lose touch with the realities and actualities of life. And while the moment I understand they aren't quite real yet is at times quite heartbreaking, I hope (there it is again) I never stop having those dreams.
Hope can be a grenade -- but I'll hold onto the switch till it blows and brings either satisfaction or despair.

I find myself hoping for some rather spectacularly ordinary things lately. The dream in my heart isn't for anything glittery or new, but it certainly exciting.
I want a home with my husband. One full of life and laughter - wood floors and window seats optional. I want kids running around learning to read and sing and play and imagine all sorts of wonderful dreams of their own. I want border collies and calico cats getting into mischief and following my family around.
I want a kitchen with tacky, mismatched dishes and echos of game nights and great conversations in the dining room. I want a comfy couch with blankets I made strung over the back. I want an attic with dusty memories we couldn't fit in our closets and hallways.
I want a yard with trees and a treehouse with a tire swing. I want a garden with roses and lillies and pansies and vegetables the kids probably won't eat (including peas because maybe one of them will share my favorite food). I want hydrangeas and azaleas around the sides of the house and a mailbox with our names on it. I want a porch with rickety rocking chairs and a cute little swing.
I want a minivan and car seats and books on tape and travel games. Maybe even a guest room with a library of all our favorites and the good pillows and towels.

I want it all. Right up to not sleeping on Christmas Eve because I'm getting everything set just right before everyone lines up in the hallway trying to sneak peeks of bikes, guitars and other fun new things. Even changing a 5 year old's bed sheets at 2 am just for the kid and his teddy bear to end up sleeping between us in our bed. I want to go all June Cleaver on the neighborhood and bake after school snacks and leave pies cooling in the windowsill. I want family vacations complete with flat tires and awkward potty breaks at truck stops. I wanna get a babysitter and go out on dates with my man that are sure to get interrupted by little squabbles and sudden illnesses. I want Barney and Baby Bop birthday parties. I want Power Ranger action figures forgotten on the stairs and homework left on the kitchen counter. I want home movies of all of it. Pictures too.

I want the romance and the everyday love. I want to be inspired by little silly things that my family sees and turn them into anecdotes in Christmas letters, blogs and songs I write. I want the precious gift of a family all my own & a full life with my husband, my best friend.

I can see it all. I can feel it. It's such a beautiful journey I'm itching to embark on.

For 19 years, 6 months, 23 days, and about 8 hours I've been dreaming up spacewalks and stages and sailing ships. I've gone to the moon and back a hundred times in my heart. No goal has been unreachable, no hope unattainable. And yet, none of my previous gilded endeavors compare to this hope of mine. Home. Family. True & Enduring Love. What more could one wish, ask of think of? Not all that much...

I think I'm up for the challenge.

Hope is my middle name, after all.

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