Patience

After reading my millionth “short sale” horror story, I’m trying to find my patient place. Sure we’d love to have a house, that house, and in about two months we’ll be apartment-less if some sort of action isn’t taken, but good things come to those who wait, right?

But the “not knowing” makes it hard to focus. All I can do is plan and re-plan the next 3 months, 6 months, year, 5 years, 10 years of our lives. Try to think of all of the possible counters the bank could make, and imagine how we’d react. Decorate rooms in my head and then try to detach myself from all of it. Wonder if our kid will ride their bike to the junior high on the bike path, and worry that they won’t wear a helmet. Try to picture what the house and the neighborhood will look like in 30 years, what we’ll look like in 30 years. In the grand scheme of things, what is 2 months of not knowing?

We commented last night that eventually our luck will have to run out. We have been so fortunate in every aspect of our lives – to have found each other, found this place we love living, found jobs in this place and to have always had a roof over our heads and amazing family and friends that support us. Can that really last? Should any two people be given so much? And if we only have a certain amount of luck left, is it right to waste it on a house, or should we hold on to it for all the other things left in life?

Some days I wish I could shut my brain off.