Keira-anne.com

It’s somewhat intriguing that I live in a high-rise apartment building in downtown Vancouver. Each day I put on sparkly jewellery and high heels beforing clicking my way down the sidewalk to yet another high rise. There, I sit in a swivelling chair while my manicured nails clack away on a keyboard for eight hours. At that point, I then click my way back home and curl up in my 505 square feet nest and rest up to do it all over again the following day.

Photo: lapideo on Flickr

Why is that intriguing, you ask?

It’s a complete false front. My life, and what I do day-in and day-out, is scarcely a reflection of what I really want each day of my life to be. My dreams are where the truth lies. Each one of us, at one point or another, has let our imaginations go wild with the thoughts of a lottery winning. “Life would be perfect…” is often the sentiment. Naturally I’d take a few trips, buy a pricey handbag or two and partake in a small number of indulgences, but my ideal life involves nothing but idyllic simplicity.

Before anything else, I’d leave Vancouver completely. Rather obviously, I am nothing but an Island Girl, and I’d be on the first boat headed to Vancouver Island. I would like a house, a home. This home would be set on a widespread yard; lush and fresh with green grass, lavender plants, a rainbow of blossoms everywhere and copious turf for an entire brood of pooches. The beach would be a short walk away.

Photo: DNiall on Flickr

The house itself would be older, completely saturated with a combination of character, history and beauty. A porch would wrap entirely around most of it with plenty of room for both over-sized wooden chairs and a chest full of fluffy blankets for cold mornings drinking herbal teas in the fresh Island air.

At the heart of the dwelling lies the kitchen. Truth be told, I don’t care where I live when I “grow up,” but an amazing kitchen is crucial. Bamboo countertops, pots, pans, a stainless steel Kitchenaid mixer, cookie sheets, spices, flour, sugar and enough utensils to make Martha Stewart green with envy. Wide and tall windows would be perfectly set to filter endless hours of sunlight into the kitchen. On the windowsills would be enough space to grow basil, rosemary and thyme while still making room for my fruit-filled pies to cool. I’d spend hours in there each day cooking, concocting and creating.

Original Photo: melisdramatic on Flickr

I’m a woman; of course I want children one day. My home would be a home for family. It would be a space to inspire and create. Being that I have such an affinity for coastal First Nations art, a Haida sun inlaid with abalone shell would be focal. There’d be rooms for painting, writing, relaxing, reading and thinking. Every space would be filled with comfort, sun and light.

Who knows if I’ll ever live that life in such a home. It’s hard not to think about baking pies on sunny days while sitting at a desk with my fingertips clacking away on that keyboard. Perhaps it’s the dreams we hold in our soul-hearts that give us what we need to get through “A” so we can move on to and appreciate “B” for all that it is and will be.

What are your dreams?