I had envisioned crafting a story in a eloquent 1500 word essay about the dream that was a house in Fergus, Ontario. However, that is not to come. The story that felt best to scribe is what is before us now.
A house was built by newlyweds with the dream of a large family. We would have an open door policy, welcoming friends and family at every opportunity. “Mi casa es tu casa” was our perpetual mantra for celebrations and impromptu visits alike. During our time, it was revealed to us that our family was perfectly complete with one daughter. We built this house to live together until we retired and moved to Florida. Now, my daughter and I are departing from this place and transplanting our home across the country, to begin a new chapter of our lives. I can not profess the story that was dreamt, but I convey the story that we lived.
Grappling with the end of certain life dreams, aspirations and goals is succinctly different from grieving the loss of a person. These ideas might be for ourselves or someone else but they often guide many of our action by defining part of who we are and when they die one must embrace a self reexamination to feel grounded once more. I’m certainly not feeling grounded but honest reflection is paramount. Working to understand the emotions surrounding the death of a dream does allow new life to sprout. I accept that, but damn it! House lists on Monday.