Closing
If the contents of my project didn't make it obvious enough, my obsession with homes has stuck with me into my adulthood. Reflected by my brother's sentiments in our interview, I always felt that my house was too rigid and too modern. Hearing Andrea speak about the playful home she had growing up awakened repressed envy within me. Yet, learning of Sammy’s desire for a backyard and access to nature reminded me of my own fortune. And Charlotte? I’m sure she would love to be able to call Los Angeles home in the way that Ethan and I can or New York home in the way that Sammy can. All of us yearn for different things. But, all of our desires are rooted in the same understanding: we envision elements of a future home because we know we will have a future home.
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Buying, not renting, a house in late adulthood has always been part of my plan, as I’m sure it is for many other people. My logic before embarking on this project was as follows: I want to be successful in my career so that I can buy a nice home. I want to spend hours on-end glued to my office chair so that hopefully one day I will be able to throw away enough money to buy a home that would fulfill younger Lily’s dreams.
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I can’t help but roll my eyes now.
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It seems unbelievable that an entire facet of my personality (wanting the perfect home) could be upended over the course of a semester. But after writing about Levittown and comparing it to today’s version of suburban “utopia,” I no longer hope for that type of future. I’m not saying that I will be satisfied with standardization; I will of course need to add in my own flare. What I no longer want is excess space just for the sake of it.
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I once equated size and extravagance with success. While that may still be the case in the literal sense, I now personally hold that success will come from the moments shared inside the space, not simply from the shell around it. My future home will not dominate how I view the world; instead, it will give me the footing to go out and explore it.