Endless dirty diapers and banal household duties make it difficult to set aside time to daydream. I am too immured in the reality of my life. I know all too well my station in life, and I have accepted the fact that I will always have to work hard for everything. My family never owned any silver spoons, and we are from new money. In fact, the money was so new, it was always replaced with every paycheck.
And so one of my guilty pleasures is daydreaming – daydreaming of a life very unlike my own. I dream of a life with little worry for finances, little worry for menial, meaningless household chores, and of a life free from time constraints and the luxury of spending days carefree and free.
This past weekend, as I drove through Riverside Drive, I started to daydream. I love this part of New York City the best, with its elegant pre-war buildings and the lush view of Riverside Park. I always wonder what life would be like to live in one of those posh brownstones, and I daydream of someday living there. I daydream of having elegant little lunches in the sunroom, and of sitting on the front steps on warm summer nights. I imagine after-dinner strolls through Riverside Park.
I love day dreaming. It’s a healthy escape and somewhat of a motivator. Dreaming of those things that I cannot have make me strive even harder so that one day, perhaps my dreams can be my reality.