Life

The house I didn’t want

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In late 2015, at the beginning of my journey into recovery, I decided I wanted to move. Fresh starts and all. We live in a house that is a main thoroughfare and heavily trafficked and without sidewalks. Our son was eight and in need of neighborhood friends and how is that possible without a neighborhood? We quickly found one that seemed perfect. A neighborhood near one of Liam’s school friends, it was bigger with an open plan, a fireplace!, a large master bedroom/bath and walk-in closet, less yard to care for.  I was already imagining us taking over the space, making it home. We didn’t get the house and I began a period of mourning.

But looking at the house kicked in a new quest for my husband. He turned our disappointment into a new idea and started visiting retirement property while visiting his mom in Florida a couple months later. It was a furtive move on his part and he didn’t share this idea until he was home and booking flights for us to visit in late February. Hold up. Retirement?! Florida?! Never! I tried to talk him down but the idea had already taken root. Strong root.

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