I can see it. I can see the house tucked between rows of
multicolored houses that look exactly the same. The tiny front yard that holds
an outdated mailbox. A line of cars from vintage to new BMW’s lining the
streets next to perfectly trimmed trees. Breakfast on the table. The smell of
pancakes and muffins wafting in the air. A cat and a dog lying on the front
rug. A laptop open. New writing. A flutter in my growing stomach. Tiny
footsteps running up and down the stairs. A husband rushing around the house
chasing and searching. He gives me a quick kiss on the cheek as he passes. We
try to clean. Mess all around. Beautiful mess. He’s smiling. He’s away from his
normal routine. He’s home. We are a family. This is bliss. Chaotic bliss but
the sad part is that none of this is true. It may well never be. Just another
dream. A fantasy of a time much to far off.
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