That White Picket Fence

I've always had a dream of living in one house for my whole life. But, I've moved so many times in my life, It was never a possibility. But, this is what I'd want my children to have.

The same state, same city, everyone knows everyone. The house you could have those memories when you were young, like, the time you carved your height into the side of the coat closet. And measured how much you grew, or playing outside all day in your tree house that you and your dad made together. And those Christmas's... I bet they would be glorious, always having the slight memory of running down the stairs in the morning, and you'd see your presents, you would jump around and keep saying "thank you, Santa!"

Or, what about when you became a teenager, when your parents let you finally go out on a date with a boy, and he'd walk you up to your front porch, and lightly kiss your lips, a slight tender first kiss, and he'd ask you to be his girl. Or, when he texted you telling you to look out your window and he had a rope ladder to help you sneak out so you could go on a midnight walk, hand and hand, so perfectly in love. Thinking this is the guy I want to be with for the rest of my life. Or, sitting on the tire swing staring at the white picket fence you watched your parents make back when you were seven, you would sit there swinging, trying to forget your first breakup, and wipe the tears away, only to think of the times you've had with your ex-lover, and end up crying again.

And, what about when you were about to move out, and go start your life? You would pack all your things, remembering every faint scent, laugh, touch, and memory you had in your room. All the different colors of paint that had been on the walls, the different decorations, changing from Barbies and baby dolls to makeup and perfume. The time you wrote your name in your closet with a marker when you were five. You would gather everything and take one last painful look back at your room, you would slide down the banister one last time, run to your Dad and hug his neck, and kiss your Mom, you went out to your car, and started it up, backed out of the drive, waving at your family. You'd smile but secretly you'd be crying inside, you wanted to stay in that little house with the white picket fence. Forever and always.