I took a long walk today, covering blocks and blocks of one Avenue. As I walked, noting the similarities, differences and oddities of the homes on this warm January day, I felt comforted. A little bit by the warmth, and a little bit by the familiarity.
How many hours I have gazed at these homes in my lifetime. Staring out the front window of the home I grew up in, walking to the corner store, waiting for the streetcar, going to the beach. Each house offers a little opportunity to imagine. As a child they all seemed like storybook homes, I would make up fairy tales about they people living in them. The faux half-timbering might be hiding Heidi, another with turrets could house Rapunzel. Little windows, tiny balconies, shutters with flower cut-outs, some Spanish influenced, others Mediterranean. Maybe that's what made them attractive when they were first built, the opportunity to own a little dream.
Today it's a just a dream that I could actually afford a home out here.