We have found the house. We have done our sums and we can afford to buy the house and we can afford to live there. The only thing holding us up is getting our house ready for sale and actually selling it.
It could be that this time next year we’re a couple of months into living our new lives, free of debt and working to pay that debt. Free to live for life, for ourselves. A year is nothing. No time. And yet. It may as well be an alternative universe or fifth dimension. It is in sight yet intangible.
Progress on the renovation is painfully slow. Scraping paint is not like stripping wallpaper. It is done by the millimetre. The timeline for prepping and decorating the lounge and dining room has slipped. There isn’t as much time in reality as there is in the spaces of a diary. Seb has a cough, Mom is feeling under the weather, or I’m too tired to scrape, the light is too poor to paint. It gets put off for another day.
Ben comes home angrier and more impatient to be rid of his forced existence outside the home, away from us. Desperate for the house to be on the market. Desperate to be at that stage of real action already. Desperate for the freedom to pursue a meaningful life. He wants to cry.
My bewilderment at the way everyone around me is living out their lives and perpetuating their acceptance of the status quo in their kids is bubbling out of me in rants I daren’t share on facebook. The drama filled lives of ex friends still loitering in the background of yet another comment about breastfeeding I have to repeatedly stop myself from replying to. I cannot wait to delete my facebook account.
Mom can’t take much more of the cramped and chaotic mess we live in. Of the lack of personal sanctuary from the choices Ben and I make. She’s so excited and also impatient. Looking forward to BEING THERE, able to get a real sense of proportion, in April. When we can breathe the air, touch the trees, eat the food, and soak up the villages we’ve all been imagining for months.
This move, this change for us, it’s like the end of a prison sentence, looming in the far distance. And for us is no less about sweet final freedom. Being able to take our new first breaths.