Wanting things

The house looked immaculate. I liked that it looked big enough to hold two football teams, had a huge garage, and a beautiful gate. I liked too that it was right on the bay. Of course, I liked the huge boat tied tight to the dock and the speedy sports car parked out front. I looked the house over closely as I drove by for the third time. I would have driven by a fourth or even fifth time if I wasn’t worried about the owner calling the police and accusing me of being a stalker.

We were in Florida around Christmas for a work trip, and we went for a long, relaxing drive. (My wife had fallen the day before breaking her hand so we were looking for something to entertain us and would keep her hand still in one position. Going for a long drive fit the bill.) I couldn’t help but ooh and ahh at some of the beautiful homes. The homes were easy to fall in love with and dream. This one especially caught my eye.

The more I drove though I noticed another house and another one. Each one looked prettier than the previous one. I imagined my wife and I living in Palm Beach, Delray Beach, Naples or any of the beautiful towns along the beach. I imagined what it would be to like to live in the master bedroom in one of the houses. I imagined us having holiday parties and family get togethers. I saw the family taking the boat out on the bay on weekends and living on Easy Street.

When we got back to the hotel, where we were staying, I finally stopped and thought about it and felt like slapping myself in the face. I needed a wake-up call.

I had gone from wishful thinking to falling prey to the Green-Eyed Monster of Jealousy, Hatred, and Envy. I had fallen for his treacherous tempting. The questions I should’ve been asking myself were simple: Did we need a bigger house? Did we need a boat? Did I even know anything about boating? Did I need a fancy new sports care that would cause me more worry than happiness?

The answers, of course, were all “no.”

I had everything I needed: I had my family, I had my loved ones, I had food and shelter. We were all relatively healthy, outside of my wife’s wrist. I had a job.

Yes, we may move somewhere down the road, but we’ll move because it works for us, not because of some green-eyed, two-faced, monster.

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