It's been quite a while since I last blogged any thoughts. I suppose I've had someone to vocalize them to, and so the theraputic need to write disappeared for a while. But here I am, back again :)
Today I went for a drive to see some houses. I've fallen in love with a new development of homes I stumbled upon on my drive home from church last week. They are close to my family's house, but far enough that if I chose to live there I would still have a sense of independence, and not just that I moved into my parents' backyard.
As much as I love these homes, I am beginning to question why I am looking into moving out. Is it because I am really ready to be on my own? Or just because I am tired of waiting for some other future to come along? I'm not sure.
I believe I am old and wise enough to handle a home on my own. I am excited to have a place that is mine, walls to paint whatever colour I desire and a fridge to fill with my groceries. A frontyard to plant flowers in and a backyard to host summer barbecues with friends. I just didn't think I would be investing into a home for one.
I want to do so many things. Find a job that I love. Travel to Europe. Possibly Africa? Buy a house. Get married. Have lots of babies. Okay, max 4 kids, but that's besides the point. I just feel like I can't start on 99% of these futures because they depend on another person.
It is arguable that I can do most these things on my own. But do I really want to? Or is driving through the beautiful suburbs of this quaint town and pouring over real estate listings just an older version of an impatient child's stubborn hissyfit. Maybe I am just hoping that if I pout long enough the other side will cave.
