"The first glimpse of her new home was a delight to eye and spirit--it looked so like a big, creamy seashell stranded on the harbor shore. The rows of tall Lombardy poplars down its lane stood out in stately, purple silhouette against the sky. Behind it, sheltering its garden from the too keen breath of sea winds, was a cloudy fir wood, in which the winds might make all kinds of weird and haunting music. Like all woods, it seemed to be holding and enfolding secrets in its recesses,--secrets whose charm is only to be won by entering in and patiently seeking. Outwardly, dark green arms keep them inviolate from curious or indifferent eyes.
The night winds were beginning their wild dances beyond the bar and the fishing hamlet across the harbor was gemmed with lights as Anne and Gilbert drove up the poplar lane. The door of the little house opened, and a warm glow of firelight flickered out into the dusk. Gilbert lifted Anne from the buggy and led her into the garden, through the little gate between the ruddy-tipped firs, up the trim, red path to the sandstone step.
"Welcome home," he whispered, and hand in hand they stepped over the threshold of their house of dreams."
Somewhere deep inside me, despite the plans for career and success in the world, I wanted that home, that romantic marriage. And I've only now realized, on starting yet another read with Anne and Gilbert and the rest of PEI, that I have it.
No, my home doesn't overlook the sea -- but it's only a few minutes away. And like Anne's house of dreams, mine is surrounded with huge, lovely trees that make our yard a green oasis that we are in the process of transforming into a magical space. And like Anne, I had my wedding in a garden, then went home with my beloved new husband.
Today, the 6th, is the day, about a year and half ago, when we went on our first date. Dinner and a movie. Now we are 6 months into our marriage, busy creating our own house of dreams. Like Anne and Gilbert in the story, we know that this house will not be our forever-home. But it's a place where we are starting out together. And that makes it a house of dreams.
Maybe Anne's story was just an early 20th century version of a fairy tale. Can a life dream really be based on a fairy tale? Maybe. Even Albert Einstein believed in the power of fairy tales, believing them to be the greatest tool for inspiring creativity and imagination and success in young minds. And who am I, now living my fairy tale, to argue with Einstein?!