As I am continually thinking about what I can’t stand about this house as I walk from room to room paralyzed by its need of repair, organization, and cleaning, now that there is a plan to move, I think about what I will miss.
It is certainly crazy how this works. The though of moving out, finishing the repairs, and painting, finally making it livable for someone else to move in, makes me wish I were staying here. Yes, the house is too small and we are not planning to expand with these renovations. So that problem will not fix itself. Our other house is much bigger but here I have the farm.
I can still plant and come back to take care of the crops. My hope is that my sister and the kids will move into the house and we’ll be taking care of the land together. Wouldn’t it be nice if her children took interest in the farm. My children have wanted no part of it and their refusal to help had only over the years, tarnished my expectations of the farm. Although not having them involved, I consoled myself, had left the farm to be my sanctuary, my solace from intrusion but the actual work involved on my own had been physically exhausting at times and I am not getting any younger.
I can set up a garden at the other house, this is true but it won’t we the same, trading fine powder black dirt for rocks in the soil. Yet, everything else will be much better.
I wonder will it be too much to hope that my children will not trash his house as they have trashed mine. Will their inconsideration destroy our relationship? I won’t let it. They will be forced to be responsible and respectful or leave and make it on their own. I think I can live with this. It is time for them to grow up and it is long over due that they show some respect; for themselves, for me, and for others. They have been far too comfortable at our expense.
I wonder… are my expectations too high?