I grew up in the Flatbush section of Brooklyn, New
York. When it was cold, our apartment
was heated by radiators. I didn’t think
anything of it. With the exception of a
few friends who had homes off of Rogers Avenue as you get closer to Empire
Boulevard, all of my friends lived in apartments. I only ever remember going to a classmate’s
house once, and I’d visit relatives out in Patchogue, Long Island during the
summer, but those visits took place in the summer, so I wasn’t thinking about
heat.
Not so much in my neighborhood now, although I do live
in the suburbs, but mostly when I’m driving Serena to gymnastics on Wednesday
and Thursday nights, I have the pleasure of passing homes with fireplaces. I LOVE the smell of fireplaces, and when we’re
able to go to our special little bed and breakfast in the Poconos, it’s so
great to be able to sit in front of the fireplace. It’s just so cozy! I would love to have a fireplace in our home, but getting to be around one sometimes is also pretty nice.
One of the most heartbreaking things for me
recently is, after wanting to go to the winter celebration at our special bed and
breakfast in the Poconos for the past four years, having reservations for the weekend of
December 1st for the special holiday dinner, and fantasizing about
sitting in front of the fireplace when it’s actually cold, and not in the
spring when we usually go for our anniversary, we realized that we actually won’t
be able to go that weekend. Sigh.
Wouldn’t
it be so nice to have a money tree? That way, when we have to unexpectedly drop
over $1K to fix Dishon’s car, and another $1K to fix my fractured tooth, it
wouldn’t derail romantic weekends like this one. I'm keeping hope alive, though. Maybe something miraculous will happen in the next week, and we'll still be able to go. I'm going to hold on to that reservation until we absolutely have to cancel. If we aren't able to go, there’s always next December . . . :( I guess, then, vicarious fireplaces will have to continue to suffice.
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