Personal Tipping Point

I literally can reach my hand out in front of me and just graze my dreams with my fingertips. I can't quite get a good grip to pull them closer to me; it's like waiting for my arms to grow longer. Maybe some more yoga? It all feels right. I can taste the plaster and new tile, I can picture leafy plants in corners, my favorite song drifting through the hall, the smiles of accomplishment on Dave's and my face. After building our bar, I feel as though the cocktails tasted better. Building our living space, maybe our lives will feel richer without actually making any more money. Is that bad that I'm practically saying that life sucks now? I don't mean this. It's been a long time coming. The sea of conversations we've swam in over our future together and this is the second biggest step (the first being the move to San Diego -- which I'd like to point out, happened almost two years ago). Marriage, while it's something to which I'm looking forward, can wait. Puppies can wait. Babies can wait. This house is my personal tipping point, where new things start happening. The end of the college afterlife and the beginning of grown up adult life.