A Stroll Down Bubble Lane

In August of 2021, we adopted our sweet little puppy, Jadzia. I was going through a bit of a mid-life crisis, or rather, an identity crisis, due to the kids both being in school for the first time ever full-time. All summer I was excited for my newfound ‘me’ time, but simultaneously dreaded the intimidation of an empty, silent home. That’s where Jadzia came into my life. Raising a puppy seemed like the perfect transition from full-time stay at home mom to just full-time stay at home person.

Jadzia and I walked everyday as soon as she was old enough to get outside. We explored the trails first, but she would get immediately overwhelmed and zoomie until she choked herself. We learned early that trails were too much. So, we stayed close to home and explored areas right off of the road. I realized quickly that our road would be way too busy for her - she pulled away and crashed against me in terror each time a car passed. Luckily, a less travelled road intersects our road just over the hill.

Jadzia loves walking down that quiet little lane beyond the hill; it makes her feel somewhat independent. We discovered many plants and even some wetlands right by the road, which she immediately disliked because she’s terrified of water. After our second stroll down the street, we found a community garden nestled into the trees. The views are stunning, with an open field area tucked away among the trees which glistens in the sunlight. Perfect for a hideaway garden. Here, I could practice with her in a peaceful environment where cars rarely drove. Lucky for me, it was also full of flowers and felt like the most peaceful place in the world. This is a place we would visit again and again, still to this day, and is among my favorite.

Immediately noticeable on the road with the garden is the lack of homes on the road. There’s nothing but nature. On the left is the entrance to the community garden, run by a small but passionate group of plant lovers. On the right, there is a wide but small field, recently converted into a tree farm, next to a hidden trailhead.

Jadzia and I spend many days walking the garden, but I remember the first time we went somewhere new. Instead of going into the garden as we had done for weeks, I decided instead we would practice on the road, following it to its dead end. This little lane had give us so much, so much beauty and patience that I wanted to see what else it had to offer just beyond the garden.

Jadzia trembles as we approach new territory where she can hear the occasional car whiz past. Then another, and another. Now we find ourselves at the cross roads. I’m excited, because I’ve never gone down the rest of the lane. I wonder what we will find? Knowing that there are no other homes on the lane, I assume there won’t be much on the last little jog across the busy road. But damn, it sure would be the perfect place for one or two homes.

Reassuring the poor pupper, I begin to walk and encourage. She starts to bound across, her primal fear urging her to run. I jog a bit, but also slow and reassure her again as we reach the edge of the crossing.

The once paved lane on the road behind us has now transitioned to gravel; a sweet reminder of my childhood where I was taken back to my home located in the middle of nowhere on our own gravel road. Though difficult on vehicles, the nostalgia fondly jolts my unsuspecting heart to life.

Feet crunching over the rock, I realize it’s much darker here, much more secluded and deep into the dense woods. Marveling at the enormous treetops, we meander slowly. Hearing a car door shut, I realize there’s someone nearby. My attention drifts over to the sound and there, through the thicket of trees, is a little red house. In curiosity, I approach a little faster. Who would live in this little wooded island, this scant sliver of paradise? Other than me, that is…

As I got closer and my perspective shifted through the trees, it becomes clear that what I thought was a little house was actually a decent sized red colonial. Completely stunned, my mouth gaped in awe at its simple beauty. The driveway was paved with brick masonry instead of cement. The windows clear and uncovered. My heart leapt at the sight of this perfect little dream.

“Jadzia, if that house ever goes up on the market, hopefully I’ll have the money to buy it because it’s wonderful,” I said to the now impatient puppy. After spending a few more dazzling, dreamy moments contemplating what a future for my family might look like in that house, I started back toward home.

Fast forward to 20 months later, I open my email to a house for sale alert. Lo and behold, the great red colonial is listed for sale - right at a time where it would be impossible for me to buy.

Unfortunately, we are still in the position of paying off debt. The USDA 0% down loan option we were pursing we stopped meeting the criteria for once my husband got a raise - which meant we would need to save a down payment while paying off debt: a sum of at least $35,000. This development changed our plans. Instead of saving for closing costs and money down, we decided to instead pay off our debt more aggressively, since buying a house would now be at least two or three years away.

“Can’t you have a parent just gift you the money?” all of the loan officers I worked with would ask, as though this simple and effective solution hadn’t been thought up before.

“No,” is all I politely say in response. Not everyone has parents made of money, or parents that are interested in bettering their children’s and grand-children’s futures, I think quietly to myself as I bite my tongue in annoyance.

Alas, we’ve paid down some debt and our income has increased but there’s been little opportunity to save yet. We’ve barely got a negligible emergency fund, let alone anything to put down on a house.

Though, after some very recent digging, I found out we are actually once again eligible for the 0% down USDA loan since they raised the income cap significantly in January 2024, but barely. It’s actually still being decided - but I’m hopeful. However, the number we are approved for is significantly less than that of the home on Bubble lane. To be honest, it’s barely enough to afford the most modest of homes in this town, but this is where my children have thrived and fallen in love. The biggest and best house in another town wouldn’t do when all your friends and opportunities are here. Regardless, I thought at least touring the home on Bubble lane couldn’t hurt.

The first open house was on a Friday. I could’ve walked there, but impending weather made me think better of it. Within two minutes, I was parking along the narrow gravel road, along with about seven other vehicles. My enthusiasm waned a bit. Houses for sale in this town always had multiple cars parked out front during open house days. The homes also rarely stay on the market for more than a week.

Walking up to the front door on the brick driveway made me gasp - I felt like suddenly breaking down. What I wouldn’t give to collapse and weep, weep at the thought that this house, this driveway, this little slice of heaven could be ours. Instead, I smiled up at the big red beauty.

Once inside, I felt surprise. The pictures I’d seen gave me a rough idea of what to expect, but I assumed that the front door opened to the upstairs on the split level, not the basement level. Yet here I was, in a large yet understated living area. ‘It’s amazing,’ I thought. ‘So many possibilities.’

Anxious to look around, I started walking. Two bedrooms to the back right. Likely the garage entrance to the left, a utility room in the back. I’d been so anxious to see the place that I’d forgotten to sign in. I did so, took off my shoes, and went upstairs.

The steps were wooden, but worn as though they’d been there for decades. They creaked with every step. I emerged into the actual living room on my left, spacious, with a dividing wall to the kitchen ahead. The dining room lay on the other side of the kitchen, also connecting to the living room, like one large circle. Walking through the kitchen I saw modern cabinetry, appliances, and mid-century modern decor. I smiled again - it’s just my style. Walking through the dining room circling back around to the living room, I spot the best part about it all - a huge sunroom, filled with window after window, shedding natural light in every direction. It is love at first sight, the place where I’d come to write every morning with a hot cup of tea or hot chocolate, typewriter keys clacking away. Standing there in the sunroom, it hit me - this is what home feels like. This is my home.

After forcing myself to pull away from the sunroom, I walked through the living room to the hall with the bathroom and two bedrooms. The back bedroom was fine and the bathroom had been beautifully updated, but the front bedroom’s view punched me in the gut, just as the view from the sunroom had done. I imagined my youngest, who has been begging me for a second floor for ages, saying “Look mom, I cleaned my room! Can I go play outside in the snow now?” He would love this, I thought. They all would. But, no one could love this more than me. Seeing myself happy, my kids ecstatic in the town that’s helped them heal deep wounds, became a priceless experience. I’d pay a million dollars for this home if I had it, just because it feels like ours. No question.

I chatted with the realtor, who was absolutely charming, but not in the ‘let me sell you a house’ kind of way. Turns out, she’d seen me post in the local moms group on Facebook. She was familiar with my advocacy work for the library. We had a lovely chat. I was honest with her that I didn’t think I could afford the home, but had been advised by my realtor to tour homes in the upper limit of my price range anyway. I conveniently left the part out of this being the home I’d been walking past occasionally for almost two years, which I desperately someday wished would be mine. I didn’t feel like putting anyone out, least of all myself.

After a brief chat with the finance rep at the property, I gathered my poncho and said goodbye. As I walked away, I stared at the house and let out a laugh. Just to be inside those doors filled me with a joy that I’ll always relish, knowing the feeling of what made a house a home. I lingered there for just a little bit too long, and then left.

Even knowing I can’t afford the red colonial, I haven’t given up. The home is already pending, but sometimes the universe works in funny ways. Sometimes the unexpected happens. Even if the house sells to another family, it may be that they sell it again later or that the house is simply not meant for me like my soul firmly believes. Regardless, I’m left awestruck and inspired. Anything is possible.

Feeling the depth of longing, knowing there’s not a damn thing you can do about it, causes one to either ruminate or surrender. Surrendering to the facts of this circumstance was the best thing to ever happen to me. I’ve laughed in joy each time I’ve walked by the house since (twice while walking the dog). I’ve also cried twice. Letting ourselves feel the feelings and continuing to surrender to reality and to the happenings of the universe somehow fills me with a deep peace. One day, it’ll be our time. One day, we will have the home of our dreams. One day we will settle in our own gorgeous home, maybe even on Bubble Lane.

Thank you for reading Sunshine. This post is public so feel free to share it.