The writing’s on the wall, brothers
Your life is in your hands.
It’s up to you to see the writing’s on the wall
I hope that you may see the writing’s on the wall.
George Harrison, “Writing’s On The Wall”
I’ve written and re-written the beginning of this post no less than half a dozen times already, but no matter how many different ways I type the words or how often I say it out loud, even I can’t quite believe it’s real. Life has begun to change for me the past couple of weeks, though it’s a welcomed change, and over the course of this time, new dreams have taken shape, lessons have been learned and tested, and emotions have become exhausted.
There’s been so much I’ve wanted to write about with all of this, so much I’ve wanted to share, yet I’ve been afraid to speak these words out-loud, afraid to smile too broadly, afraid to laugh too loud. Somehow, I’ve convinced myself that if I kept it a secret, then this newfound happiness couldn’t be taken away from me, that the dream wouldn’t slip from within my grasp. I was afraid that something would happen, that something would change, as things so quickly seem to do. While I’ve been running head-first into this adventure, as this dream turns into reality with every passing hour, there’s a part of me that’s terrified that it’s merely the dreamer in me speaking, that the dream will be shattered, somehow, if I even dare whisper the words to the world.
And so I kept it to myself as much as I could, while inside I’ve been a mess of emotions: frustration at not being entirely in control of the situation, having to leave this fate in others’ hands; patience — never really my strong suit in the first place — being tried as the days pass to weeks and those weeks go by; anticipation and excitement coursing through every vein in my body as I plan, dream, wonder about my future — a future that feels so close at hand.
Yet, never once, despite all of these emotions, has there been even the smallest shred of doubt that this isn’t the right decision, that this isn’t meant to be, that this is the next step on my journey:
I’m buying a house.
A house. I’m buying a house. A house with a fenced-in yard for Riley and all of the charm and history I could have ever wanted. A house where friends will join me for cookouts and movie nights in and family will come for long dinners, building new memories as we share the old with smiles and laughter. A house where responsibility lies in my open hands, where I can grow and learn and become the adult I have always, always longed to be, the woman that has been in there, inside of me, just waiting for time and age to catch up to her.
A house where my life — my very heart and soul — will be written on the walls.
A house that will become a home.
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Note: This has been a long and emotional process, and one I’ve been longing to write about for some time now. In the next few weeks, I hope to share what has led me to this point in my life, what this dream means to me, and who I believe has helped guide me here — even if they’re only here in spirit. Until then: Thanks for your patience and understanding through the somewhat silent route this blog has taken, thanks for your support and encouragement, and, most importantly, thank you simply for you — the past two years have been a tremendous learning curve and I doubt my life would have been the same without this blog, without this community, without you, my friends.