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Dream House

31 Jul 2017Other Essays

Seeing this house for the first time was like meeting for the first time the lady you were destined to share your whole life with. Somehow somewhere in the inner chambers of your mind, you knew that the two of you were inseparable.

It was a warm summer’s day when I finally decided on calling on the realty agent for an ocular visit on the house on the list. It was on the bend of Apple Street, on the outer part of town just an hour’s drive from where I work, with trees all lined up from both sides of the road as if welcoming any soul pre-destined to reside in this serene landscape. The house itself was a majestic 3-bedroom bungalow, with roofs arched in the middle to point towards the sky, and although it needed some repainting and a great deal of cleaning up, I knew I had found my home. Quickly, hurriedly, abandoning reason for what seemed to be infatuation, I readied my checks and had the deal closed.

It’s been almost a year since that day, and finally everything I had envisioned for this house had been accomplished. White iron grill fences, bearing my initials and masterfully- intertwined with green and orange vines, welcomes anyone who passes on the street. The white gate, wide enough for two sedans to pass side-by-side, also bears the same initials, albeit in a more elaborate and expensive manner. The garden, my favorite part of home, is about 200 square meters wide, neatly manicured with blue-green Bermuda grass, and at the center a black and red granite coffee table with four chairs, are positioned relaxingly. The whole scene seemed to have been plucked out from a country postcard, or a classic movie from the 60’s where colored films were just starting out and almost every scene depicts nature and architecture in a breathtakingly artistic manner.

Inside, you are greeted by a cozy, four-walled living room. Hardwoods like Oak and Nara have been utilized, mostly by darker shades of varnish accentuated by dimmer-than-usual lighting, and four foot high tropical plants placed on each corner, with its own tiny spotlight hidden in the ceiling, maximizing the lighting effect.

About eight paces to the left and you enter my kitchen. Counter-tops have also been made with granite, a grayish-black combination made to collaborate with the imbedded 8-burner counter-top stove and the 3-foot wide stainless steel sink and wash area. An 11-cubic foot silver refrigerator stands on the corner of the kitchen, and on the other side rests my microwave oven, deep fryer, electric smokeless grill, coffee maker, and other food gadgets essential for the average foodaholic.

The door directly fronting the living room leads to the master’s bedroom, my room. The door itself was tailor-made from a whole slab of Nara hardwood, about 3 inches thick, and meticulously hand-chiseled with tangling leaves design by artisans from the South. The same wood was used for the flooring, was cut in ten square inch sets, varnished to a reddish-brown texture, and masterfully plastered on the floor.

This seeming laid-back, country style room is counter-accentuated by the modern type of gadgetries I own. A 62-inch plasma TV, DVD player, PS3, a desktop computer and a laptop, both Wi-Fi connected, primarily for unfinished works during evenings and weekends. It is probably from this room where I owe my peaceful nightly slumber from, inevitable due to the comfort and the cozy ambiance it creates, even to a tired and fatigued mind.

The backyard, though, is another story. I look at it and I feel infatuated once more. Although mostly barren, except for the dust, empty dirt, and a few shrubs illogical in their stubbing, it sprawls about 2,500 square meters. I look at it and I see a plantation of apples and oranges; of a network of neatly-dug irrigation canals; of mini tractors plying the dirt roads assisting the pickers; and of myself in years to come, comfortably slouched on a lazy chair enjoying the fulfillment of my two lifelong infatuations.

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