Telling people your dream came true is like adding a but at the end. But yours didn’t have one.

Engaged at twenty one, married at twenty two, pregnant and having a beautiful son at twenty three. Everything was perfect. And your whole dream was fulfilled with a farmhouse in rural Tennessee.

No buzzing of cars. No fumes in the air. No honking waking you up.

A soft breeze fills the bedroom, windows wide open, sun tickling your nose.

It’s already seven o’clock but the sun is only about to rise, the frost on the short cut grass slowly melting.

Miles and miles of land, not one single house to see in the distance, just your two horses trotting on and eating some of the fresh grass behind the picket white fences.

You sit up with a sigh, sheets pooling around your lower half. The bedside next to you is empty. After pulling on some shorts, you make your way downstairs.

The clanking of blocks is heard and you enter the living room, spotting your husband Rafe and your nearly one year old son. They are playing with your sons new wooden blocks, the different colors widening his little eyes and making him grin.