Dream House.

I believe in numbers. Specifically, I have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and one of my little compulsions is breaking everything into 3's. It helps me feel in control, as bizarre as that may sound. But the reason I am telling you this, the reason I am convinced that the number 3 is significant in my life, is because I've been waiting all weekend to share this picture with you, and the Universe chose for this particular post to be my 300th. Yeah, I'm crazy like that... but we all have our own little quirks :)

This house means more to me than just about anything else that I currently or have ever owned in my entire life. This is where I grew up. I remember when we had to move away from this house, and I was so heartbroken that I told my mom that I hated her and would never forgive her for making us leave. Leaving this house broke my heart deeper than any boy ever has -- and that includes those middle school boys who made me feel like my life was so-over when they didn't want to hold hands in the hallway anymore. But like those boys, leaving leads to growth which leads to bigger and better things. At least that's the story I'm sticking to for now.

I can't even begin to tell you the memories that I've made in this house. My very first memory ever was when I was 3 years old at our kitchen table, and the cup I was drinking from had a handle that looked like the letter 'B'. I just remember feeling so proud that I knew what that letter was. This is also where I was potty trained, learned how to ride a bike (right on that street out front), and met a tree that was so significant that I named this blog after it. I also had a kick ass backyard, with a mickey mouse sprinkler that I would run through for hours in the summer.

My parent's built this house together. They had a say in every little detail. And the coolest memory that I have from this house, is the vacant field at the end of our street. They eventually built condos (which, I might add, were the absolute scariest and awesome-ist places to trick or treat -- these people went wayyy out!), but before the condos we used to be able to see hundred of hot air balloons. I think that there was some sort of hot air balloon club or race, and they would always stop in that field to re-fuel and we always got to go and talk to them and see the balloons up close. They were seriously beautiful, all lined up by the hundreds. There's nothing else like it.

We had a huge garden in the backyard with a compost pile, and every night we ate fresh vegetables. That garden was the best place to find frogs, and my mom was always checking my pockets because I was always trying to sneak them inside to my bedroom. There was also a field behind my house, and I was grounded so many times for running out of my mom's sight despite her screaming from the back porch that I was wondering too far.

Next door was an Indian family who I was head over heels in love with. I would go over for a visit several times a week, and they would paint a red dot on my forehead and teach me about their way of life. At Christmas, I was always blown away by the transformation of their living room -- they had a million dolls on display and I remember sitting in there for hours im amazement. I remember how they would never cut the grass in their backyard, and my best friend and I would pretend we were tigers for entire afternoons, crouching and jumping through that 5 foot tall grass.

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Today when I look at this picture, I think about my childhood self and how carefree I was. There are still so many things about that little girl that are still true today: I hate wearing shoes (and clothes in general), I am the happiest when I'm outside on an adventure, I still talk to trees, and I still spend the majority of my life day dreaming and pretending that life isn't as serious as others make it out to be.

But things are different, too. Sometimes I wonder what I would say to my younger self. I think I would tell her to continue living her life without second guessing herself. I would tell her that life wouldn't always be easy, sometimes it would be unbearable, but that she is strong and will be able to grow from those experiences. I would tell her that her passion for learning and reading is rare, and to never let that go. And I think that most of all, I would tell her to not get so angry when childhood ends and she has to leave that house. Better things will come, she will meet new friends that will last her a lifetime, and eventually her path will lead her to not only a husband, but a soul mate who pushes her to be herself and encourages her to continue to grow.

I would love to go back in time and hug the younger version of myself, and tell her that it's ok to feel every emotion deeply. I would tell her to cherish the times spent with her grandfathers, because the sting when they leave her will stay with her forever. Especially on prom night and at her wedding. I would encourage her to continue going barefoot and making up songs and pretending to be a fairy or a bird -- to cross boundaries and explore every inch of the world around her.

And I think that the younger version of myself, would probably have a lot to say as well. She would probably tell me to relax. To stop worrying about money, because the important things in life don't cost anything. To go on an adventure a day and to continue looking for gnomes in the forest. She would encourage me to continue writing in my journal. And she would probably encourage me to be an astronaut when I grew up ;)

When I look at this picture, of the place where I grew up, I can't help but remember the little girl who once lived there and who she has become. A little different, but mostly the same. I like to think that that little girl would be proud of who I am today, and that her only dissapointment would be my hesitation to share my belief in magic with the rest of the world.

My North Star.

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My inspiration is back. And it took nothing less than returning to the place that I spent my childhood - the place where anything was always possible - to feel at home again in my own body. Every now and then I travel back to my old home with a friend that has been in my life since I was 3 years old. We quietly peer into our old windows and talk about what our rooms once looked like. Sneak in between broken fence posts and sit in silence as we remember birthday parties, neighborhood fairs, chasing bunnies. Tip toe in the feild behind my old back yard and try to imagine ourselves back in that place, running through sprinklers and climbing up my old swing set. Then, I sit upon the stump of my oldest, most favorite tree. With warm, swelling eyes I try as hard as I can to transport myself back to when I was 5 years old and sitting in that very same spot {probably wishing to be older}. Yes, that tingling in my throat is back and I finally feel like what I have to say is worth putting into words.

I think that Laurel Lakes must have been magic. Maybe it still is. Because the spell of my childhood has kept me young and imaginitive and alive like nothing I have ever experienced since. As I sit here now, I am giggling about how I used to sit in my kitchen on the phone with my best friend. We would talk about how pizza tasted better when it was square-shaped and how much adult swim really did suck. An afternoon dancing in the tall, tall grass of my neighbors backyard suited us just fine. Or riding our bikes so fast that our hair stuck straight out or hiding from our bus driver under one of our friends decks or just pretending we were fairy princesses. Nothing mattered and time seemed to go on forever. Then one day I woke up, and I was twenty-something years old. But I still feel like that little girl, and I hope she stays inside of me forever.

And if I ever forget that she's there... I know my best friend will just know and we will return to that place and feel young again. We will eat ice cream and walk up and down our old street. Run as fast as we can to the park and spin around on the merry-go-round until we throw up. We will leave reality behind for a while and get lost in our imagination of what we once had and will forever share. Because it is really true, when Oscar Wilde said - We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.

once upon a time..

Once upon a time there was a little girl. Actually, she was more of a fairy princess. Each day she would wake up as the sunshine seeped through her eye lids. She would wash her face with the morning dew and sing along with the robins and the blue birds until the gentle heat would lead her to a bed of clovers. She made a new crown of daisies and lillies every single day and danced among the dandelions, wishing for magical things like dragons and pearls and pretty unicorns that would take her up into the clouds so high that the trees below her became tiny green specs. Butterflies would chase her as she ran throughout the forest in her bare feet, stopping only for a moment to dip her toes into the cool pond before leaping from stone to stone and then climbing up into the tallest tree she could find. She would lay in a hammock of fresh leaves and talk to the owls as they hummed from there nests. At dusk, it was time to run as fast as she could back to her home - for the forest grew dark very quickly and soon she would not be able to find her way back. She would follow the fire flies back over the pond and through the trees and past her bed of clovers and dandelions into her mother's arms. With a tiny kiss on her nose she would snuggle into bed, her muddy feet peering out from the sheets and her knees painted green from the earth.

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