In our search for the right home for our family, we found one that I, of course, fell in love with. It’s an old house and a small one. Our search has been fruitless and we’re getting tired of believing we can get the right one for us. This one fell into that category because the price was out of our reach (according to the typical factors of real estate). My son’s baseball game ended early because of the rain and hail so I actually drove through the driveway during the last minutes of the open house.
I imagined us living there and designing our life accordingly. On our way out of the driveway I had to swerve around the rose bushes in order for them not to scrape the side of my car. So I stared at them, accidentally. Wow, those are gorgeous, I thought. They were bright in the rain like a light in the dark. I couldn’t stop staring at them. The woman who lived there passed away inside of the house. She was in her mid 90’s and was walking the property days before she passed. A good omen, I said.
Later that evening I laid in my bed visualizing the garden and our small family loving the house and every part of the property. What upgrades would be necessary? How would we enjoy the space? What would our life look like? How can I make this happen? I went over it all in my mind and was completely and hopelessly in love. My thoughts were interrupted by a voice… one that I know and love dearly. “We love you too.”, she said. And she was speaking for the roses.
