Write about your dream home.
I have never really dreamed about a home.
Maybe that’s because I value other things. Maybe it’s because I’ve been out of the market for most of my life. More likely it’s because a home, for me, isn’t meant to carry the weight of aspiration. A home embodies values. It isn’t designed to impress, nor is it primarily an investment. It holds and nurtures lives.
So if I were to describe my “dream home,” I wouldn’t start with bedrooms and bathrooms. I’d start with what the home makes possible.
It would be modest, not big. I don’t want a big house that becomes a maintenance program. I don’t want weekends swallowed by lawns, pools, and repairs. Low-maintenance matters to me—not as a minimalist badge, but as a way of protecting time and attention. A home should support life, not consume it.
I’d want quiet amenity meeting natural beauty. I love nature. My wife loves the water. Being near the beach would be wonderful, but I’m just as happy near bushland—somewhere with birdlife, a sense of green around the edges, but not so close to the bush that you live with fire risk in the back of your mind.
Light matters. Not harsh light—welcoming light. Morning light. A home that catches the day gently and is protected from the worst of the afternoon glare. North or east facing, if you can manage it. Warmth in winter. A place where you don’t need to fight the building in order to feel at ease.
And because so much of our joy is quiet, the house would make room for that. We are readers. A good day for us includes sitting outside with a book and taking our time. So I imagine a decent deck—somewhere you can sit in summer with a cup of tea, not rushed, not performing, just being. We also love art, so there would be enough wall space to hang the pieces that have found their way into our lives over the years—art as companionship, not decoration.
Finally, I’d want it to be built well. Not flashy. Not showy. Just honest. No cutting corners when no one is looking. A quality build that carries its integrity quietly, like good character.
In a few years we’ll move into our own place for the first time in our lives. It will embody some of these values, though not all. It’s a modest two-bedroom apartment a few minutes’ walk from the beach. There’s a park across the road where the dog can run, and where we can sit and read. There are barbecues for picnics with friends. It’s low maintenance. There’s birdlife nearby.
It will be small, so we’ll probably trip over each other. And the deck is small and south-facing, which isn’t exactly conducive to long, lazy reading. But other rooms are north-facing, and they fill the apartment with warmth and light. The lounge will become the reading place. There isn’t much wall space for art, but there’s enough. We’ll keep the pieces we love most and rotate them every month.
And the best part is this: it’s well-built. It isn’t flash, but it is honest.
Which is what I wanted all along—not a dream, but a home that makes a good life possible.
The Afterword 
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