A dream home, whether lavish or small, contemporary, traditional or neither depends on who lives in that home.
Each person’s dream home looks entirely different from everyone else’s. Some prefer large, lavish, elegant homes, while others don’t care much how many bedrooms they have or how large the house may be.
It really depends on one’s station in life, how they were raised, to what they aspire, or how much money they can afford to spend. A king or queen would never be expected to live in anything but a large palace, with more bedrooms than they could ever use.
They require servants to bring them whatever they need or want. These servant people also need a room in which to sleep. These rooms are usually in a remote part of the palace. Their presence won’t be noticed by either high society or royal visitors.
We’re far from royalty. Although, I’ve been called a princess more than a few times.
My beginnings, on a paved country road in western Pennsylvania, couldn’t possibly have been more unassuming. We were middle class Americans, not high class or royalty.
Dad taught school. Mom cooked, cleaned, spotlessly kept house, canned, shopped thriftily, sewed beautifully, and spoiled her daughter sweetly with plenty of love.
Dad also doted on his only child. He gave her all the things he never had growing up. Besides teaching, he coached football, basketball, and track in their seasons. During summer school vacations, he contracted and built homes for friends. He made gorgeous furniture, most of which were sold.
He gave his daughter a college education, several cars, houses, and lavish love. His kindness, congeniality, and jovial nature kept him constantly admired by many. Daddy, I called him, loved me unconditionally.
He did spoil me, but only with love. Often, I wanted ‘things’ that weren’t in our budget. An only child views life differently than those with siblings. That’s my interpretation.
Daddy built our small two bedrom, one bath home. The only help he had came from neighbors, family members, or students. One man, a fellow teacher, went fiishing and hunting with Daddy. Those two were inseperable.
His friend’s wife worked. Mother preferred her own company, so they didn’t associate much. Each Christmas, the friend’s wife gave us a delicious batch of handmade cookies.
The home Daddy helped his friend build seemed gorgeous to me. On a small hill, it had much more space than we ever had. The little green monster reared its ugly head in me each time we visited them.
My piano teacher lived downtown on a ‘posh’ street. It probably wasn’t by today’s standards. She had a grand piano. My dream of someday owning a grand piano came from playing that one each week.
I’ve owned one for over thirty years now. My husband bought me the piano as our first piece of furniture.
We’ve owned several homes through the years, each one more elaborate. Now that we’ve retired, living on a fixed income’s causes us to be more frugal in our choices.
My 1903 Knabe Parlor Grand piano’s moved with us every time. I earn extra income through teaching private piano lessons.
Now that I’m freelance writing, that income supports my efforts. Building websites costs some.
The title of this article “Dream Home” might be misleading. “Dream Home; Find Your Heart There” would be more appropriate. My heart loves everywhere I’ve lived. I’ve found love there; parental love, spousal love, my own love for wonderful surroundings.
It doesn’t matter if where you live is palatial, medium sized, or a tiny apartment. A Dream Home can be anywhere there’s love in that home. In the grand scheme of life…
Love is all that matters.