Wingate in Mukilteo-Edmonds, WA was a dream. Not my dream, but a dream.
It’s the closest I ever came to home.
For a time, we tried to grow a family there. I tried so hard to have a second child, but it was not the Lord’s will.
We were so busy trying to keep our head above water, finding community in the strangest places, fighting invisible battles, cancer, depression, sleep apnea, many ER trips, a near-divorce…that we never took care of the 1970s house built into the woods of a former horse trail.
We only fixed it up much later, right before moving in the middle of a goddamned pandemic, gave it a dream kitchen (I designed), in order to sell it to strangers. Figures, right?
I kinda forgot for a moment…that it wouldn’t be mine any longer. I tend to do stuff like that.
In my best dreams, it is fall all over again, Covid never happened, and I am back in the house filled with the sound of laughter of my son and his friends.
I guess it’s just as well…
