Sure, it was only a house, but that house really represented freedom. There was an enormous yard - for gardening, for a dog, for composting, for praying, for having company over, for birdhouses and birdbaths and birdfeeders. There was a fireplace, because we love to heat naturally. There were hardwood floors and a sweet little kitchen. There was a garage for storage so we could spread out a little more, and pack things away that we don't use all the time instead of squeezing them into the small spaces of an apartment. There was space in the garage for the four bikes we have, so they don't have to take up our entire dining room because there's no where else to put them. It was off the main street, it was right in our price range.
It was perfect, and we didn't get it.
Sure, it's only a house. But it took us a year to find the perfect one, that allowed pit bulls, and had a huge yard and a beautiful inside. All the others we've looked at that allow pit bulls in our price range have, quite frankly, been dumps. This was a dream house. And we didn't get it. It was freedom - a release from being told what we can do and what we can't do, because as mature adults there is nothing more frustrating.
Yeah, it was only a house. But I feel like I had it and then lost it. Fuck.
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