It turns out I ended up spending yesterdays afternoon at your place. I really did not want to go and many times felt inclined to just run away. It’s the hardest thing these days coming over when it feels more like trespassing rather than traipsing through what was once a lively home.
Though it’s not completely stark; it’s lovingly humble soul remains firm and through all the toxic stench of paint your delicate scent wistfully remains, idly sharing the spotlight. I fought tooth and nail for our family to keep this home not just for it’s sentimental value but greedily because it’s my happy place. The one place I’ve ever felt safe and the center of the few joyful moments of my entire life. Everyone expects me to move in, though financially unable and thus the baton is passed to my brother who seems more inclined to turning this ethereal space into a fraternity; compromising it’s purity and sanctity.
I had and still do hold a vision of what this space could become but it’s no longer myself behind the wheel and these days my advice is no longer welcome nor executed. Though some suggestions taken on board, like removing carpets and restoring the hardwood floor goldmine beneath which is what I was called over for yesterday. It will be interesting to see if they do proceed with the stain I recommended though it looks best with grey hued walls and would be too stark against the horrid pink based white tone they choose instead. I guess I’m still hanging onto this vision because I need to hold fast to the hope that I will own this house one day soon and create a space that you would have been thrilled to live amongst.