Shockingly, I am OK with this. I have been trying so hard to hold onto something, that is essentially sucking the life out of us. We have outgrown this house two children ago. We have one little bathroom. One living room. A tiny kitchen. 3 little bedrooms. That's it. There is nothing more to this house. I have no fight left in me. I don't care. I can honestly say that I feel like a new, and better chapter for us, is right around the corner. I can feel it moving toward us. In my mind, I am already thinking about a home with more than one bathroom. What a luxury. I am thinking about a home with a play room. I am thinking about how I would decorate the girl's bathroom. Maybe a garden. I would love to have a vegetable garden. And a cutting garden. Lush with flowers. Cone flowers, and snapdragons. Foxgloves. Oh foxgloves.
When we first looked at this house, there was a metal sign nailed to a tree at the end of the driveway. It had the number of the house on it, and it said below that "Foxglove House". I thought it meant something to the previous owner. When we moved in that summer, David pried it off of the tree and tossed it by the garbage cans. He started cleaning up around the property, pulling weeds, and such. There was an abundance of one type. Big leaves, close to the ground. I thought that they looked like something that should not be pulled. David swore up and down that he knew these were just weeds. I thought that they were purposely planted. He won the battle, and proceeded to pull up well over 200 or so of these weeds.
He filled garbage bag after garbage bag. I thought nothing of it, until one or two of these "weeds" that were overlooked, grew into the most beautiful, speckled, pink, and purple, Foxgloves. It made me cry thinking about how beautiful the house must have looked, with all of the grounds, completely covered with these magical looking plants. It was upsetting. Someones hard work, and attention to this land before us, removed and tossed, in about an hour.
It happens that quick. Change. All of your hard work. All of your attention to detail. Setting up a home that you have already visualised since being a child, taken away. I remember roaming through this house, and each of it's empty rooms, 8 months pregnant with Olivia. The possibilities made me giddy.
We tried for many years to replant Foxgloves. Every Spring we would buy several and stick them in the grounds. They never took. Not one of them. We had altered the landscape, I suppose.
We will do that somewhere else now. And through my tears, I am smiling.
This is not our ending.
This is yet another beginning for us.