- That laundry would creep away into a deep, dark hole and die. For a week -- or, ... oh, dare I dream? -- ten days.
- That no one will ask me, "What's for dinner?" Just for a day. One day.
- That I could eat take-out every night for seven -- oh, dare I imagine it? Ten? -- days. In a row. On paper plates.
- That while I'm consuming decadent, indulgent take-out food and wearing clothes that never get dirty, the cat will announce that he's permanently ceased throwing up. Also, he would kindly like to point out that his allergies are gone, so he will stop breaking out in those unsightly sores.
- That the bathroom door would automatically lock behind me. Because I forget to lock it, y'know? Which translates into, "Hey, everyone, come on in and tell me about your day! It's a party in here, despite the drab decor! And hey, cat, wouldn't you like to come in, too? And throw up?"
- That when I'm sick I could just. Be. Sick. (I'm not sick today, so don't worry about me. I'm just dreaming.) You know? Sick? As in, all day long/in bed/don't touch me/don't talk to me/I'm going to sleep for seventeen hours/I won't cook/I won't tidy/I won't talk to you about math/sick.
The reality -- I know, I know -- is that I love these people. It gobsmacks me, really, how much I love them.
And I even love that cat (Most of the time. Except when he's biting one of my offspring. And throwing up. And chewing on my nightstand at 4 a.m.)
And I love that I have a washing machine (I did the laundromat thing when we were young and poor and I'll take daily laundry anytime), and I love that Atticus has a job and the means to provide the meals I
And yesterday, when we were reading The Long Winter, and we came to the passage I quoted earlier this morning, I thought, "Yes. That's what home is. It's a little taste of the divine. It's Heaven under a roof. Refuge from the cold world."
And that is the message I try to remind myself of when I get caught up in my wish lists.
That heaven is right in front of my eyes.
Yesterday, Ramona said, "Mommy, there's a place where you can go outside when it's snowing and you don't even have to wear a coat. And you can eat ice cream and drink hot chocolate at the same time, and then go swimming. And there's cake. And we're going."
"We are?" I asked.
"Yes!" she said, impatient with my thickness. "It's Heaven!"
Lord willing, we're on the road.
That's my real wish list. That we're doing what we need to do, and that we'll keep looking for those doors He opens to draw us further in, and that we will walk through them -- that this tiny taste of Heaven under a roof will be our path, someday, to the real thing.