So I had this dream from a long, long time ago. The dream of living in a home, not just a house. Because, sure, we had a roof over our heads which is more than enough, but it just didn’t feel like home.
This story begins about 11 years ago.
We were a young couple with a little girl looking for a house. We found one, that for some reason spoke to me. It certainly wasn’t because it was pretty, which it WASN’T. It was close to my baby girl’s school, and close enough to my school. So we bought it. And we made major remodelation work, hired an architect and all. So finally by the end of the year 2000 it was ready.
I remember the emotion we felt when, coming home from a vacation, we went to see how was the construction going, because it was already delayed. I don´t know why, but I distinctly remember that it was late in the night, like 12am or something, when we got to see it like it was going to be. Sure we saw it before as the construction workers were remodeling it, but it wasn’t the same as to see it with the walls painted and all.
We were in AWE. We didn’t get to pick the colors of the interior walls because of the vacations, so we had to leave it to the architect. It was perfect!!!
I truly, really believed we were going to live in that house forever, that my girls would grow up there and all that. My second child was born in that house (not in the actual house), there’s where we adopted our labrador and I loved it. We had parties, celebrations and barbecues every chance we got.
But we had to sell it. Bussiness got tough, and we practically had no other option than to sell. Besides, at that time things weren’t so great with us as a couple, and we split up. So I had to leave my house and my husband almost at the same time. It was one of the most difficult times of my live, if not the hardest.
Now, this is not a pity party, it ends happy I promise!!!
Tomorrow, part 2 (this is getting crazy long)