Houses

I was taking a scenic walk through a poshy-woshy neighborhood. For every house, there were two mansions. 

I observe these homes with a critically appreciative eye. I note the materials, the color scheme, the architectural style. But not with any sort of envy. 

I grew up on a poshy-woshy block. To our right and to our left were mansions. Our house, by comparison, was rather modest. Once, when I was around 10, a child from one of these behemoths came to play, and kindly informed me that my house was "cozy." 

With the childish belief that "bigger is better," I would sometimes gaze wistfully at these massive constructions, wondering what it would be like to live there, while I certainly knew that the neighboring children were no happier than anyone else. 

Then, one day in elementary school, I was assigned to a group for a project, and it was agreed we would meet by my house. My classmates marveled at my "cozy" house, exclaiming, "It's a mansion!" Surprised, I viewed my home again with fresh eyes, and realized that yes, it was rather roomy.  

Time passed. The neighbors, like my parents, began to marry off their children. The bedrooms began to empty out. Initially, yes, the married kids would come visit, but there is always a time when it becomes easier for the grandparents to come instead. 

These mansions, so coveted in the owners' 30s and 40s, were now mostly dead space that demanded constant maintenance. Downsizing beckoned, as well as sunny retirement destinations. But selling these white elephants proved difficult. While the neighborhood had been in high demand 20 years ago, it had fallen in value since. These owners were now stuck, hoping a buyer would come who would pay what the houses had cost.  

Despite the "coziness" of our home, with my siblings married and out it felt bleakly empty. But because the house wasn't a technical mansion, my parents were able to eventually sell it and downsize. 

So, no, I don't dream of living in a mansion. 

The home I grew up in was spacious that we all lived comfortably beneath its roof, but even then, with change, it became too big and outgrew its use. 

I know of a couple who have slowly been working their way to build their mansion. First they bought the property, but then their finances took a turn. It took more then a decade for them to scrape together the dough necessary to continue building their castle. 

By the time the mansion will be ready, all their children will be married, and Florida will be looking much more appealing.  

That is not to say I'm not an envious person. God, no! I am more than capable of envy. 

But then, if I have the presence of mind, I'll realize that everything has pros and cons, and that which I envy may not be as cracked up to be . . . like a big house.