I used to pass this house twice a day during my commute. It is a beautiful house in SE Portland, with big windows and a large front porch. It was built in the 1920s, and is on the market for $600K. The first time I noticed the house I was in a hurry, driving too fast because I was late, and I did not get a good look. It was fleeting, my glimpse, but it was enough. Later that afternoon, I drove past it again, slowly, and fell in love. Each day after that I would slow when I drove past the house, absorbing as much as my eyes could in that short amount of time.
I love the steps leading up the porch, sort of curved and sweeping; and the yard, raised up well above street level; the porch is large enough for a couple big, comfortable chairs and a table. I can see Jeff and myself sitting on this porch in the late afternoon sun, drinking iced tea and eating finger foods, glaring at children and watching people walk by.
The driveway is around the side of the house, right on 39th Street. The driveway leads to a garage under the house, which was a popular style then. It would probably be most inconvenient to back onto 39th Street during the morning rush-hour, so I probably wouldn't use it.
The house is two levels, and has a finished basement. The kitchen has been remodeled, and there is a fireplace. The back yard is also above street level, sort of a gradient slope that is just dirt with very small bushes planted; there is a large concrete pad in place of a traditional "yard", so one would not have to mow back there. The house is painted a soft mint green, which sounds awful but is really quite nice looking.
When I was sixteen my family lived in a very small, cramped house. My mom used to walk to work six blocks away, to save money. Each day she walked past a mammoth empty house, and she pined for it. The house was big enough to hold the four of us, and she wanted to live there very badly. One day, a for-sale sign was up in the yard, and Mom came rushing home. She told us of this house and how she knew we should buy it; she talked of all the possibilities of living in that house and she got us very excited. When my parents discovered the price, my stepdad told her to forget about it. It was too much, we didn't have the money to buy it and it just wouldn't happen. My mom is not easily defeated, and eventually came up with a plan to buy the house. Six months later, my parents signed the papers: my family owned that house.
I feel like my mom did back then. I belong in this house, in fact I've already chosen a name for it. I took several pictures of it and will place them in a special box. Into this box will go photographs of the things I desire, things I absolutely must have. And I must have this house. Probably I'll have to wait some, on account of how I don't have six hundred thousand dollars, but I will have this house.