5 June 2012
For some reason, I find myself continually wondering, whether I have been born in the wrong era, or the wrong ethnic group, or maybe even the wrong world. This constant yearning for a lifestyle, a world, that, to those surrounding me, seems strange, out of place, mad even, is a hole in my heart that I fear will never be filled. The life I dream about, the life I wish for, is a life of love. Family.
They seem so clear, those bright, colorful, joy-filled images that form in my mind, persistently reminding me of the life my heart so helplessly desires. A cosy home, stylish, yet cosily messy, with the occasional toy or teddy lying about. A couch, betraying the otherwise clean impression, revealing a few crumbs, giving away the otherwise carefully hidden traces from the cosy night before, sitting in front of the TV, with biscuits and juice, even though it was far past the children's bedtime, creates the center of the room. It has been lavishly adorned with pillows, a few disobediant cat hairs and blankets in all shapes and sizes, still warm from the small child bodies that had curled up in them that very morning whilst religiously watching their cartoons and giggling, as the Nutella made the journey from carefully topping their toasts, to being almost smeared out around their small pink lips and matching chubby cheeks. From here, it would travel down to their sticky little fingers, and finally end its journey, plastered all over the couch and their clothes. rød grød med fløde
Towards the other end of the living room, one could, with a little effort, just make out the the legs of the dining table, although its surface had long ago been forced to yield to heaps of clean clothes, and lonely socks, failing terribly as they sought their lost partner. Even the kitchen, being the only room in the house that could be called clean, still struggled to hide the fact that children had baking chocolate cake a few days earlier, seeing as the walls bore drops of chocolate cake dough, due to a couple of rather enthusiastic bakers and a little too much cocoa powder.
The children's bedrooms hardly lack colour, the walls decorated with motives from fantasy worlds, trains, bears, dolls, and whatever else a child's heart could desire. The drawers bulge with toys and games, the bed sheets portraying their favorite cartoon characters this month, and their loyal sleeping companions occupying their pillows, waiting for them to come back home.
I myself, in case of any doubt, would be playing the part of the mother in this little piece of paradise. A mother who was at home, ready to wake them up in the morning, frowning slightly at them as they would pretend to be sick, in faint hope that they would be allowed to stay at home, although, beneath the frown, a smile would be hiding, amused and entertained by the fantasy of such a small being. Breakfast would be served with the usual stress around the table. A husband who was late for work, again, the youngest child catapulting their food across the table, bursting into giggles as porridge would spatter all over their far from delighted fathers face, the oldest struggling to finish the last of their homework whilst shoveling food down in the least elegant of manners. All this would be followed by the daily battle; teeth brushing. With that over and done with, the hallway would then be filled up with shuffling feet, desperately trying to find their matching boots. Coats and jackets flying, as people would rush towards the door, getting ready to be bundled and the car to leave for school and nursery. The flow of people going out then to be disrupted by one person going in to pick up all things everyone had forgotten.
Once the house had been emptied, and everyone was safely at work, school, nursery, or wherever they were meant to be, the 'todotoday - list' would consist of cleaning, hoovering, washing clothes, tidying up, shopping for dinner, finding all the lost socks and giving the cats a little love and attention before it once again was time to pick the children up and start preparing dinner.
Once fed and happy, everyone would cuddle up in a heap on the couch and watch the latest episode of the current series, or everyones favourite cartoon until the youngest one falls asleep. Finally, after a few bedtime stories, the house would once again fall silent, and, exhausted, it would be the adults turn to fall asleep on the couch, and at some point, crawl up into bed, in hopes of getting a good nights sleep before starting all over again in the morning.
That, is what my heart wants, what puts a smile on my lips when I dream. Maybe, if I had been born a couple of years earlier, or if I belonged to a traveller family, then maybe, I could have had it, but I am neither. And in this world, in this lifetime, women are expected to work, life is full of stress, and my dreams will most likely never become reality. it is nice to dream though .. isn't it ?
Paradise • Opuss № I