Last night I met someone for ice cream. He emailed our studio a few times asking about how we built our business and how we edit and how we do it all. A curious artist. So we met at a local creamery and almost instantly he was asking about my lack of attachment to material things. It’s no secret that my family means everything to me. Nothing else comes close.
“There really is nothing material,” I assured him, “that I couldn’t live without.” But his disbelief was evident. “There must be something!” He proclaimed. More than once. So I searched my brain. I searched and searched and searched for something tangible, frivolous, unnecessary that I have always wanted and finally remembered my life long dream to own a beach house.
“I would one day like to own a house on the water.”
What followed from him was a list of fancy places where, I presume, many people dream of living on exotic beaches. But when I searched my heart, there was nothing extravagant or elaborate about my wish. “I just want a tiny little place. With some sand and water nearby. Maybe a lake? Where the kids can play.” And that was that.
This evening, Thomas and I drove up to see a few potential office spaces for our new adventure in Massachusetts. As soon as we pulled onto Mulberry Street, we knew we were home. After the tour of the building and a bit of chit chat and the explaining of the technical and important things, and after good byes and I’ll-see-you-soons were exchanged, the owner pointed to a side street just to the left of our space.
“… And if you walk a few feet down there,” he said, eyeballing Lily and Braedon splashing in a puddle in the parking lot, “There is a beach.”
Ahhhhh! My cup runneth over…
