American Dream

A white picket fence and blue hydrangeas run along the road out front. Tall trees line the long driveway. White lace curtains hang to the floor, and the windows are open. This is the future that I see in front of me. The dream. The end goal.

I dream of a home. A place to call my own. With my own wooden floors and countertops. A place made from scratch, by me. I can see it when I close my eyes. It plays on a film reel in my mind, on a constant loop. The film reel of my life shows me what has been and what is to come.

Showing me my childhood. The bedroom I grew up in and how many different colors the walls have been from blue to yellow to pink. My childhood toys all laid out on the floor. The 101 Dalmatians towel I insisted on using every single day. All of my old diaries. The flower comforter my mom told me Mrs. Claus made for me.

My life flashing in front of me in full color.

I had an amazing childhood and I’d like to think my “teenage era”, was what one would call a teenage dream. My friends, my soccer team, the parties, the outfits, and the vacations. The Fourth of July parties, Pennsylvania trips, and family game nights. Learning to play poker at the age of ten and listening to my dad and uncle’s stories at night (I learned so much sitting in front of a campfire, you have no idea). I am the girl I am because of those things. The memories will be with me forever.

I thought I knew everything when I was 18, but I guess you’re supposed to feel that way. The calm before the storm. The calm before the journey of my 20’s. Finding myself, losing myself, and re-discovering myself every step of the way. Watching myself take all the necessary steps. I can see my whole life. All the trials and tribulations playing out in front of me.

Hopes for the future and memories of the past constantly remind me of what I want.

A close family with inside jokes. Stories at the dinner table and loud holiday parties. A house built from the ground up. A backyard with a garden and a place for barbecues during the summer.

My American Dream looks like this, it’s the middle of the summer and I just finished making dinner with my husband. The kitchen is spacious and has a lot of natural lighting (part of the reason why we chose this house). Outside, the grass that my kids are playing on is a deep green. My cat Oliver is there but we also have a dog (they’re best friends). I have 3 kids, and even though they are playing loudly outside, the house feels still and peaceful. We have a trip planned in a couple of days so I start packing. Moving from room to room, gathering all of the things that I’ve gathered throughout life and putting them in suitcases. You can hear the birds chirping and the children laughing. They’re playing in the sprinklers trying to soak up the last rays of summer before sunset. The floors feel sturdy and strong under my feet, and the rugs that I’ve laid out for decoration are soft and welcoming. The best part is, that no one can take any of it away from me, because it’s a house that I’ve built. A house that I turned into a home.

A home with sunshine and a breeze. Balcony’s. Tea-parties. Vegetable gardens. Regular gardens. Swings. Confetti. Streamers. Bubbles. A porch. A pool. A place to read and write. I can see it all very clearly. I used to play this game in my mind where I would go to my so-called “happy place,” except the rules are, that you can never go to the same place twice. I think this is why I can see my future so clearly. I’ve thought up every version of it that I possibly could. Every version of my American Dream exists in my mind.

I know I’m young, but this is what I think about. I never had the fancy stuff, the big house, or the basement. The little girl inside of me who used to watch HGTV all day screams for hardwood floors, french paneling, and Fleetwood doors. If you can’t tell already, back then I wanted to be an interior designer when I grew up. I used to redecorate as many rooms in my house as my parents would let me. They trusted my vision. Growing up, my parents almost sold our house multiple times, or at least that’s what I was told as a child. My mom and dad let me decorate, but it was still always my parent’s house, never mine.

A realtor came to look at my house the other day and I know it’ll be put up for sale soon. These are my last days. On occasion, I feel like my house is alive. Like it has eyes and a heart that can see me and feel me. My childhood home saw me crawl and take my first steps. My childhood home was there when I had my first fall and every time I’ve picked myself back up. There’s also that gut-wrenching feeling that one day I won’t be able to walk through this front door, my front door. This bedroom, my bedroom, will belong to someone else.

Somewhere inside of me, I will always be 11 years old running barefoot in my backyard. In another universe, I still can’t touch the bottom of my pool so I have to doggy-paddle everywhere. Somewhere out there, time is frozen on me building my first snowman in my front yard. Frozen on me playing outside for the last time unknowingly. Putting my toys away for the last time unknowingly. Turning Disney channel off for the last time unknowingly.

I’ve tried to come to terms with it in the past without luck, but this time is different. It feels right. Like things are falling into place. Old doors need to close for new ones to open. I’ve said goodbye more times than I can count. I’ve already grieved. We’ve let each other go.

What is the American Dream anyway? What was it for my parents and what is it for me? In 2024, what does that look like? Can I see it from here, or am I still too far away, too far removed?

I’ve been sort of “getting ready” for a while now. Getting ready for what I know is coming, and I feel better. Closer.

I’ve been changing at a quicker pace. Waking up a new person every morning with new desires and new to-do lists. A new favorite song, a new favorite color. Changing. Adapting. Growing. Reaching for my future.

Figuring out who I am, what I want, and how I will get there. How I will be on the way there. Leaving no stone unturned. What is my American Dream? What does it feel like, taste like, smell like, look like? That’s the question. Every question that you have to ask yourself to get to the bottom of what it is that you want, they’re all the questions. That’s the secret. Knowing exactly what you want down to the details. If you can do this and hold that image, it will happen. It will come true. It’s universal law. And I get it now. I get it on so many other levels than I used to before. But that’s because I was inside of it all before and now that I’m on the other side, I can see everything so much more clearly. It was always going to happen this way. Always.

Thoughts become things, which is why I choose my thoughts like I choose my clothes. Meticulously and with attention to detail. I’m writing my future now. Writing my own story. My modern iteration of the American Dream. Page by page, making it all up as I go. Inventing, re-inventing, learning, and unlearning. Carefully weaving sentences together that will define the future I live in.

Trusting myself, surrendering to the process. The process of life and getting older. Of finding yourself and taking risks. I know I just graduated college but I feel like I’ve been working towards these goals forever. I’ve never wanted it this badly before. The film reel that plays over and over in my mind has become so specific. As time goes on, more and more is added to the images. Things that I want to do. Places that I want to go. People I want to meet. The names of my children. How I want my house to look. I’ve never wanted it more than I do right now.

The things that I’ve been posting on social media make such a difference too. It’s how I can document everything and see it all come to life. It’s how I learn more about myself. Some of my best work though, has been the pictures I’ve been getting lately. I can’t even take the credit because it’s all my little sister and boyfriend. They are 100% fully trained professional photographers now. Planning a blog post and trying to figure out what I want to write about is the challenging part. I’ve been posting on here for so long now, I feel like I wouldn’t be myself without it. Although recently, I feel like I’ve been working harder than I ever have on all of it. I’ve always posted but I’ve been inconsistent and never had an actual direction. It’s different now though. I have a guide. I have a direction. I see my path stretching out in front of me, and all I have to do is keep taking the steps. The path of my American Dream has been carved out by old versions of me, old versions that can’t come with me. Old versions of myself that I have to let go of because they were only supposed to get me this far. Carve out the path and then step aside so I can continue.

I’ll never forget where I came from and the things I’ve been through. It’s all written here. Saved in these blog posts, on this website, so that it can live on forever.

My feed right now is better than it’s ever been (at least in my opinion). It feels like home to me. It feels like peace. That’s what I want this blog post to feel like too. A clean slate. A blank sheet of paper. A sunshower. A Sunday. Home.

I want this blog post to hold this version of me. The eager version. The hungry version. The humble version. The growing version. I wanted this blog post to feel like a new beginning, like the written prophecy of my life.

I want to keep growing and outdoing myself over and over and over again. I want to start my YouTube channel finally. Start over when I need to, with everything. Fill notebooks with words and screens with content. Document the moments so that I can look back on them forever. So they can be mine forever. I won’t have my childhood home, but I will have all the pictures, videos, and memories. Those can be mine. These blog posts can be mine. Something that someone else can never take away.

I know change is inevitable and nothing ever truly lasts forever. That’s the point of life. I know. I know a lot of things. I know that there are 24 hours in a day. I know that time never stops moving. I know that one day I’ll make it and reach the top of the mountain that I’ve been climbing. But right now I’m still climbing, and I’m not sure how much farther I have left to go. All know is that I’ll go. I’ll do what needs to be done. I’ll face my fears. I’ll persevere.

The movie in my mind is too good to not go after. It plays all day and all night and I want it to be real so badly. This is me writing it into existence.

This is me writing my future.

Writing my freedom.

Shouting at the sky that this is what I want.

I want the American Dream.

I want my American Dream come true.