For as long as I can remember I’ve been the imaginative type, the writer. I’d describe fantastical places, and tell stories just to break away from the day to day. Usually they were funny stories I’d tell just to hear people laugh, my little added joy to the day.

Then when I was alone with my thoughts I’d day-dream, I’d picture a life I hadn’t had yet, sometimes it was other worlds with magic and odd characters, and other times it was as simple as a life I hadn’t yet reached. It doesn’t mean I was trying to escape anything, it was more like a place where I wanted to eventually be.

I had never reflected on it truly until someone on a date had asked me the question.

So I pondered, where do I go when I’m alone in my head, when stories aren’t whirling around faster than I can keep up. Then it hit me, the one story I’d always return to, the one that would trickle into the rest.

It started off with an image of me sitting in a living room of a small home, surrounded by boxes. I had just moved in, and I felt like I had met my first goal, I had bought my own little home, I could smell the cardboard, the cold tile, or wood, or rug, underneath me. That was an image I held onto for a long time, it gave me a goal, something I was always working towards.

Then one day, as I neared that first goal, I closed my eyes, and I saw myself, sitting in the living room of that same cozy imaginary, now, two story home. Drinking coffee, the gentle light from outside coming in, a dog at my side. Complete peace, enjoying the warmth of my cup and the feeling of his fur.

Then the door would open, and I could never see the face of my other half as they entered, but I knew I was loved and I was home.

Over the years that fantasy seemed within and without my reach at different times, some days I’d feel like I’d never reach it, other days it felt like it was right there.

But I’d always go back.

Then one day, it must have been during the holidays, something triggered a change in the dream. I saw myself in that same little living room, a Christmas tree lit up, the smell of cookies baking in the oven, my other half barbequing outside.

Then the change, the biggest of all, laughter of children. Running through the house, I’d hear little footsteps, the pup now a bit older, tail wagging and happy, waiting for the rest of our family to join us, knowing every bit of hard work, everything I overcame, was for this moment.

That’s my happy place, my family, the one I was blessed with, the ones I’ve found along the way, and the ones that are to come.

Enjoying our home.