On What Could Be

Notes from a lifetime of daydreaming in the after..

Apr 13, 2026

We put an offer in on a house this week. I’m writing this the night before we find out if we got it. Strange feeling - to hold a life in your head that may or may not be yours by morning.

Here’s the thing about me: I can always see it. I can make something from nothing. Walk me through a house with water-stained ceilings and a galley kitchen from 1987 and a weird little sunroom tacked onto the back, and I’ll already be three moves ahead. Knock this down. Open this up. Bump this out. Paint everything. Move the island. Better yet, find a vintage standalone one. The dining table goes here, under a pendant I haven’t found yet but will. The backyard dinner happens there. The morning light comes in through that window - you just have to take down the blinds to see it.

It’s a gift. It’s also so exhausting.

Because no one else in the room sees what I see. My husband is absurdly patient about it. My friends nod politely. But there’s a particular loneliness in it. I’m already living in the after. They’re squinting at the now.

This is true of houses. It’s also true of brands, and dinners, and seasons of life, and most things for me. I can picture it perfectly. The work is convincing everyone else - and sometimes myself - that the picture is worth chasing.

We won’t be in this next house forever. My husband works for the Titans, and the stadium will keep us tethered close to downtown. I want land eventually. But I don’t want to do bedtime alone every night while he sits in traffic. So: East. Where our whole lives already are. Our friends, our restaurants, the Friday evenings by the river, the breakfast taco spot, the natural wine shop, the bakery, the bar. I can already picture the walk to coffee. The walk to dinner. The .2 miles to my friend’s house.

So I made a vision board. A warm, yummy highlight reel of what I want this next season to feel like. Will we get the house? Who’s to say. But I’ll tell you what I’ve learned, after a lifetime of being the one who can see it: the vision always shows up before anyone else is on board. Before the offer is accepted. Before the walls come down. You carry it alone for a while. That’s just the deal.

In the meantime, here’s the vibe.