Suddenly, the love affair I've had with my old and strangely put-together house is over. For the first time, I'm thinking of selling, thinking of buying something closer in, smaller, smaller yard, one story....I feel old. I feel hopes and dreams sliding away from me, the plans of my youth are gone, and good riddance to most; unimaginative, traditional, just-like-every other girl's dreams. But now I feel the things I wanted after I dealt with all those white-picket fence ideals are no more realistic at this point in my life than the other's were.
I feel a little lost, a little sad, a little mortal and small and pointless.
The American Dream passed me by. I am not rich, or famous. In fact, I am living within 20 miles of where I was born and 10 miles from where I was raised. My traditional, working-class father/housekeeping mother had a lifestyle very close to mine, only they paid their house off earlier and saved more money. Yet, I did those things as a teenager that promised to make me a success---studied hard, went to a good university, got 2 degrees that were aimed at preparing for jobs that paid a middle class living and were in demand. Went to church, was respectful to adults, acted like a lady, and on and on and on.
By 20, I knew it wasn't working for me. The one thing I couldn't do at that time was be blonde and beautiful---and I tried. Back then, success was easier to marry than to be.
So instead of marrying my high school sweetheart (not advice from everyone but frequently a plan parents suggested to other girls, and definitely a step more successful girls my age were taking, I bought a house--by myself. OK, that was a bit odd, but successful. Then I met someone, and if not prince charming, we got married, had 2 kids and worked, and worked, and worked. Then we divorced, which if not a sign of success was a sign of the times and very average. It also killed the teenage girl dreams that oddly mimicked every Disney princess that has ever been branded and marketed. What a relief.
The earth mother dream was born, home in the country, strong, independent, grow your own food, do your own repairs, keep it simple. Of course, it is not cheap to keep such a dream so twenty years of time-consuming jobs to make enough money to work toward the goal. And during that time, things that were fixed wore out, broke, became obsolete and always at a higher price. The end result, no time to enjoy the land, the dream, just time to work toward maintaining it. Time passes and passes and everyday is very similar to the day before and few are filled with much joy.
Suddenly, the stairs hurt your knees and a little fall breaks a bone instead of just making a bruise and a feeling of foolishness. The gas powered tools are too hard to start. The hand tools are much more tiring, And what happened to the weather. Its too hot! its too cold! its too dry! Nothing lives long enough to make food unless the water bill is sky high and you spend hours and dollars altering the soil, and then, some 20'somethings raised in the country inherit the pasture behind the house and decide to build.
I'm done. I want to paint. I want to quilt. I want to make soap. I want to retire while I still can. And I can't pay for the upkeep here on my retirement funds. I don't want to move to a retirement home. That is not even a goal, that is giving up. That is admitting its about over- that I'm just spending time waiting for the end.
What do rich people do when they reach this spot? I have no idea. Do they reach this point? We all have 1 lifetime. It has no prearranged endtime but money doesn't necessarily buy good health, sometimes it just buys the same excesses that the homeless and downtrodden get for almost free. Even if you do everything for your health that you should, human life expectancy is only sooooo long.
I watched bucket list---money paid that down, but it was still a bucket list, mortality's shadow lying low over the enjoyment. Am I mourning this part of my life, or mourning the reality that is my life.
We all get a piece of time and it is up to each of us to do with as we will. But how much more could I have done?. Perhaps I'll just get some goats, and sheep, and maybe a couple of rescue donkeys, that would handle the grass maintenance and might annoy the new neighbors as much as the new view bothers me.
The American Dream passed me by. I am not rich, or famous. In fact, I am living within 20 miles of where I was born and 10 miles from where I was raised. My traditional, working-class father/housekeeping mother had a lifestyle very close to mine, only they paid their house off earlier and saved more money. Yet, I did those things as a teenager that promised to make me a success---studied hard, went to a good university, got 2 degrees that were aimed at preparing for jobs that paid a middle class living and were in demand. Went to church, was respectful to adults, acted like a lady, and on and on and on.
By 20, I knew it wasn't working for me. The one thing I couldn't do at that time was be blonde and beautiful---and I tried. Back then, success was easier to marry than to be.
So instead of marrying my high school sweetheart (not advice from everyone but frequently a plan parents suggested to other girls, and definitely a step more successful girls my age were taking, I bought a house--by myself. OK, that was a bit odd, but successful. Then I met someone, and if not prince charming, we got married, had 2 kids and worked, and worked, and worked. Then we divorced, which if not a sign of success was a sign of the times and very average. It also killed the teenage girl dreams that oddly mimicked every Disney princess that has ever been branded and marketed. What a relief.
The earth mother dream was born, home in the country, strong, independent, grow your own food, do your own repairs, keep it simple. Of course, it is not cheap to keep such a dream so twenty years of time-consuming jobs to make enough money to work toward the goal. And during that time, things that were fixed wore out, broke, became obsolete and always at a higher price. The end result, no time to enjoy the land, the dream, just time to work toward maintaining it. Time passes and passes and everyday is very similar to the day before and few are filled with much joy.
Suddenly, the stairs hurt your knees and a little fall breaks a bone instead of just making a bruise and a feeling of foolishness. The gas powered tools are too hard to start. The hand tools are much more tiring, And what happened to the weather. Its too hot! its too cold! its too dry! Nothing lives long enough to make food unless the water bill is sky high and you spend hours and dollars altering the soil, and then, some 20'somethings raised in the country inherit the pasture behind the house and decide to build.
I'm done. I want to paint. I want to quilt. I want to make soap. I want to retire while I still can. And I can't pay for the upkeep here on my retirement funds. I don't want to move to a retirement home. That is not even a goal, that is giving up. That is admitting its about over- that I'm just spending time waiting for the end.
What do rich people do when they reach this spot? I have no idea. Do they reach this point? We all have 1 lifetime. It has no prearranged endtime but money doesn't necessarily buy good health, sometimes it just buys the same excesses that the homeless and downtrodden get for almost free. Even if you do everything for your health that you should, human life expectancy is only sooooo long.
I watched bucket list---money paid that down, but it was still a bucket list, mortality's shadow lying low over the enjoyment. Am I mourning this part of my life, or mourning the reality that is my life.
We all get a piece of time and it is up to each of us to do with as we will. But how much more could I have done?. Perhaps I'll just get some goats, and sheep, and maybe a couple of rescue donkeys, that would handle the grass maintenance and might annoy the new neighbors as much as the new view bothers me.
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