Visitors Dream

We walked Lily to the pond last night and she swam in the secret swim spot. On the way we met a man and his family working on the mashed potato house. I told him the story about how I walked past the house last Thanksgiving eve and heard a woman on the porch suddenly say "mashed potatoes" into her cell phone. I've called it the mashed potato house since. He plans to remove the mashed potato siding and put up wood shingles. He's also going to remove the pair of thousand-pound cement deer and give them to the elderly couple on the corner who really wants them! His brother is working on a house around the corner, and their grandfather, the man with the Saint Bernard and the pool, lives a couple of blocks away. It seems like now I know nearly every person and dog and cat along the pond.

Yesterday Bill appraised the piano belonging to one of the women who lives there. She is selling her house and has already moved out. Sometimes I wish that I lived there and could see the sun set nightly over the pond. But it's okay, being a visitor is great. Perhaps I appreciate the neighborhood more than I would as a resident. But imagine if we bought this little house and shared it with our family. We'd all be able to swim in the secret swim spot and in the winter we'd skate on the ice. I would hook up a wood stove to huddle around on damp gray days. Our country house would be a mile-and-a-half walk away! But one house is plenty for me and the dream is more fun as a dream.