An expectation is a future object,
recognized as belonging to me.
A summer storm blew a limb onto the power line yesterday. The chickens were terrified and ran to the coop as the power company came with their chain saws and bucket-in-the-sky truck to cut it all down. I watched from the kitchen window as wood fell, heavy and splintered.
The kitchen in the little red house is dated and cramped. Folks ask for pictures of the house, but it's not much. Honest. If I weren't so focused on saving and preparing for my future cabin, I'd fuss with it. As it is, I put out my stuff and wipe counters and move along.
And of course put out candles and plants. Candles, plants, and good soap. Always.
In the meantime, while I'm here, I visit my Cabin board on Pinterest to plan and dream. I focus not on this house, but on the expectation of my future object- a place I've long recognized as belonging to me...