We can see it from the cemetery. This house that we think may be our next home.
As an albatross flies, it’s about a mile and a half away from us. We stand beside hundred-year-old lava rock grave stone markers, in a simple cemetery just down the street from where we currently reside. Between us and the peeking A-line rooftop of our dream house, lie grassy meadows, one steep valley, and several property lines with fences. Of the house, we can see nothing but windows.
“I don’t know…if we could walk straight from here, it would probably take 15 minutes to get there. It’s not far.”
I’m assessing distance while the Bohemian nods, his arm around my shoulder.
“I’d like to see a light inside. You know, something that warms it up,” he says.
It is sunset and the light is fading. The distant house windows are dark, reflecting nothing distinguishable from this range.
“How about those old-style lamps? You know the ones that were at the front of houses on the posts?”
“Didn’t those burn on kerosene?”
“Yeah, maybe…” The Bohemian laughs.
We are living between our dreams and the practical, trying to dance this balance between the two.
The practical facts of our current situation are as such:
- The rental agreement on our current sublet ends in four weeks, on the first of November.
- We believe that we may be able to actually settle for the long-term(ish) in the house peeking at us from across the fields. However, that scenario is contingent on several factors completely out of our control, which will not reveal themselves until November. Should all bode well, we still would not be able to begin dwelling in the dream house until December or January.
- Hence, we are in a 2 month limbo, looking for something temporary, while wishing on a hoped-for-but-not-guaranteed abode.
At this juncture, I will add that Craigslist currently shows 12 long-term rental listings, only two of which, are on our side of the island, with one of those listings asking $3000/month for a two bedroom, utilities not included.
It feels good to look out over green pastures at the only roofline in sight, imagining ourselves lighting up that house with warm, golden hues from the inside. As the sky fades into grays and lavenders, we stand at the cemetery taking in the view. As we do, the dark shape of an owl glides low above the meadow just before us.
It is special there in the quiet. The silent swoop of an owl. The setting sun with clouds outlined in pink. The scent of plumeria lifted to the breeze. The old-time spirits of the cemetery, deep in the ground, marked by crumbling, moss-covered markers.
As we turn to leave, I think about the souls that rest there. How each human lived a life, however short or long. That they each got their chance to move about the earth and live a lifetime. Five senses, looking, listening, touching, tasting, smelling. And dreaming…they all got a chance to dream. Hopefully, they got to live their dreams.
The Bohemian and I walk side by side, step out of the cemetery gate and back on to the quiet, two-lane road. I hear the flip-flop sound of our summer sandals as we move.
This is our chance to walk upon the earth. For how long, we do not know. We get to be here. To sense it all. Maybe even lean into a sixth sense and follow it across the fields. Together, we can dance between the classifieds and that distant roofline with dark windows.
Dream about lighting lamps.
For the Archives 