How on earth are we hurtling towards the end of May already? I can’t believe it, January seemed to drag and now it’ll be the longest day before we know it and so far the things I have achieved in this big “year off to sort everything out and get my house and garden finished” is a big fat zero. Ok not actually zero, maybe 0.5 – I have managed to buy a pot to hang outside my front door, complete with plant to go in it, but it hasn’t yet made the journey from my Mum’s house back to mine so I am not holding my breath about it getting put up in the foreseeable future. I’ve also managed to buy the glass shelf for my bathroom which I first looked at and considered buying 2 years ago. But I haven’t found the motivation to put the shelf up…
Actually, that’s not completely true. It’s not the motivation which is missing. It’s my Dad.
This is the house we built, and I don’t know how to go on building it without him here. I want to. I want to achieve everything we talked about, and make my little home the home we both knew it could be. But he isn’t here to do it with me, and instead find myself aimlessly starring at wall plugs wishing I could check with him that I have picked up the right one. So I put it back in the box, and put my glass shelf on one side to be looked at another day when I can find someone to help me. But I never get to finding that day or contacting that person.
I love my little house and I want to finish it. But I am also scared to. S is looking at houses, he will be moving out in a few months time, but all of the houses he is looking at are being assessed not just for his needs right now, but for renting potential for when we move in together properly in a few years time. I know this should excite me, but when we talk about it I also realise that that means I have a few years left in my little house and then I have to leave it…. and I don’t want to.
What I want is to take my little house, pick it up and move it to somewhere where I can stretch it out a bit and give it bigger rooms. Maybe fit in another bedroom and a bigger kitchen. A dining room would be nice, and I would love to have my own private garden where I can put the bins where I want without having to worry about how my neighbours will put their bins out. I would also give myself a drive and a front garden…. I’m not after Buckingham Palace but it would be nice to have a little more room.
But to get more room I have to leave.
I know, I know, I can hear you all telling me off as I type this “this is a long way in the distance” and “you never know what the future holds” … and you are right, but I do know that that future does not hold any new memories about my Dad and I hate that.
Every since I was a child I have tried to put off stuff I don’t like. I would stay up to the early hours, pretending that if I didn’t fall asleep tomorrow couldn’t come whenever I was apprehensive about something, and I still do that as an adult sometimes. I want to finish my house and have it clean and tidy, without tools hanging around. But doing that, without Dad is something I am not looking forward to and so I am putting it off until tomorrow, but then, just as I did when I was a child and would wake up stressed and shattered, I am waking up the next day regretting my actions, or lack there of.