Imaginary Houses

I have just left my beloved 2nd house. It was more than a house, of course, it was my treasured home and assertion of my independence and autonomy when my world seemed to be collapsing around me (little did I know it would get worse). I bought that house, in part, with some settlement money from my divorce. I bought it, in part, because I felt I had to house-up after my ex and his new partner had a baby, bought a house, and cruised around in their snazzy new cars, playing perfect family (this lasted all of a year). I bought my own little house when I realized that E, for all his apparent interest in me, didn't seem to want to have me move in to his house or get married (this was 2010 - he changed his mind). The house, my lovely little bungalow, was a haven for A and I. We both loved it because it kept us close (it is really very small) and it had a huge yard (to play in), a perfect lawn (now destroyed), a long driveway (to colour with chalk), and some fun neighbors (her age - to play with).

I just spent half a year's rent on a bathroom renovation. Yesterday, I realized I could probably have found a new job in 6 months, and I wouldn't have had to move in here to keep afloat, and I felt like I'd made a terrible mistake. E and I living apart work well. Living together? Too soon to tell. I'm worried though. I don't think I live well with people. I can live with my child pretty well because I'm in charge. E's the same.

Still, there is one spectacular benefit to being here with him instead of there alone. He cleans! I hired a cleaner to help me get the house in order yesterday. She suggested that I would probably need her services at the new house (ha, ha, haven't I always admitted to being domestically challenged?). I didn't tell her that I married Mr. Clean. As blank as E can be, he's pretty darn good about taking charge of his own space.

My own space, now quite beautiful and clean, will now be handed over to someone else. Why didn't I do the reno and take charge of it more forcefully when I had it? I didn't seem able. I was overburdened with work and responsiblity and lacked confidence and cash (a custody battle will do that to you). So, here I am with E, nostalgic for my former life and home, keeping in mind this little jewel of a place that's mine.

Elizabeth McGrath wrote a fabulous story called "Fogbound in Avalon." I don't know if she has written anything since. It is difficult to find any information about her. Anyway, the story is about the breakdown of the narrator's marriage and in it she mentions that she and her husband, at one happier point in their lives, purchased a heritage home in their home town. I'm not sure if they lived there for a short period of time or just rented it, but they eventually rented it and lived on the opposite coast; however, for her, the fact of owning it, of having that place, allows her to hold it in mind and heart. I think that will be the greatest reward for all my efforts on my house. I have created a space that reflects my heart and I will hold it in mind as I create a new life here, always knowing that I have there, that there is a place I can claim, should I need to.

Is that pessimistic? I don't think so. I think it is prudent. I think it is how fifth-wave feminists hedge their bets and maintain their peace of mind.