a house!

We found a new home. A house! Or at least the main floor of it. It's a giant old house close to where we live now but a little farther east. It's half a block to the dog park and it has a yard! I'm not usually prone to exclamation marks, but I guess I'm excited since I've already used two in the first four sentences.

It's the sort of place where I feel like Leila can make memories. We can grow carrots in the back yard and she'll remember the stained glass doors to her bedroom. We can easily walk to New Brighton pool in the summer. There's even a basement we can use. I have designs on tucking a desk away in a corner to write at and I think Tom wants to be able to do whatever is he does with tools down there. I might be getting ahead of myself, but I always thought it would be rad to have a dartboard.

I couldn't face the thought of Christmas alone in this crowded apartment so I was trying to find a cute cabin in the woods somewhere, but now, now I think we'll spend Christmas in our new house, and you're most certainly invited for dinner if you're in town. I'm so excited to put up the white Christmas lights that we had up at our wedding, I'm excited to bake, I'm just plain excited. I'm looking forward to seeing Leila's face as we try to show her how to rip paper off of presents, and Norton's enthusiasm at being so close to his favourite place in the world. I'm excited to meet our upstairs neighbours who have a three year old boy.

This is going to be good, I can feel it.

change of scene.

If we lived in Nelson, we could own this house. Or this house.

Ask me how over this city I am. I've wanted to leave for so long, it's almost the only constant. Where I want to go changes, but wanting to leave never does. Tom doesn't. He suggested Maple Ridge as a compromise. But Maple Ridge is actually my idea of hell. It's not that I can't stand Vancouver, it's just that I don't feel a connection to it. I don't feel satisfied here. I know that to an extent, the only zen you find in a place is the zen you brought there, but I really think there are certain places in the world where it is easier to tap into that inner peace.

I want Leila to have a yard. I want her to be able to go outside and create imaginary stories that she narrates to herself. I want to live in a house that doesn't share walls with my neighbours. I should be grateful for what I have I know, but I can't shake this feeling of slight unease, like I'm in the wrong place. It's like one of those dreams where you're making lattes at school or taking a bath at work. The actions and locations just aren't meeting up.