We pulled up to the house. For sale sign in the yard. It was an old farm house that sat right up against the road. But the road was amazing. Trees that looked like they belonged in the deep south. Farms all around. Space and sky. We were 30 minutes outside of the city, an hour+ commute during rush hour. But it was quiet. The realtor showed us through the home. Built in the 1800's, dirt floor basement, no heat on the second floor, 5 bedrooms. The barn, ready for animals, the shed, perfect for a workshop. And the yard behind the house, fields as far as the eye could see with thick trees growing on either side to block out the neighbors. I wanted to see us there...fixing up the old kitchen, getting barn cats, grilling in the back yard while the children played. Finishing the basement floor. Painting the chipping exterior.
But all I saw was work. We worked 10 hour days so when would we make those changes. You were not handy and did not need a workshop and we preferred to keep our cats inside with us. And there were no children. So all we would have would be bedrooms full of empty future hopes, that even as we stood looking up at the beautiful home we knew would never come to be.