Goin' Up The Country

Last Saturday Sean and I left the house together, without the Boodge. I think this has happened a grand total of 2 or 3 other times since he has been born. The occasion? We went to the credit union to sign and initial here and there and everywhere to get our new mortgage, line of credit, back account, insurance, tax bill. And that's only the beginning of the paperwork--we still have to meet with the lawyer. What began with house hunting in Ontario has ended with the purchase of a house with a shop and 15,000 square feet of land in Mission, BC.





What do we know about Mission? Not much. There's a Mission there, atop a mountain of beautiful, old growth forest. There's a raceway, too (Me: Ugh. Sean: YAY!). The town's 35,000 people have a median age of 36. According to one website, it was built to resemble a small Ontario town, and the main drag there does remind me, vaguely, of the ones I've seen in Renfrew and Belleville. There's one yoga studio that I can find on the web, and one natural foods store. Some of our friends told us "It's redneck out there, you'll see." Others say it's the Bible belt. We figure there have to be lots of good, everyday people out there that we can connect with.

At first we were alternately scared and excited. We have been swimming in a world of mortgage brokers (when he pulled out his own shoe horn at the end of the visit and slickly slipped into his shoe, I knew we couldn't work with him), bankers, lawyers, inspectors, and figures. Now we are moving through rooms of boxes and half packed cabinets. Home improvement shows are suddenly interesting. We are about to take on a responsibiity that we anticipate will be like having a child, in that it will be a ton more work, but will also gift us with amazing growth and pleasure.

I'm going to plant a garden. Ardan is going to run in the yard and dig in the dirt and make friends with bugs and worms and raccoons and flowers he can pick because they're in his own yard, not the park. We're going to learn about plumbing and flooring. We may even be landlords, because the house has a one bedroom suite that can pay almost half our mortgage payments. That is, once we change the carpet, re-floor the kitchen, and paint the whole thing. Painting with a toddler could be fun, right? Right???

One of the best things is that there is space for visitors to stay a while and be comfortable. I am dreaming of having family and friends visit and stay for a while, enjoying good meals, playing games, and having peaceful space for themselves. I dream of creating a warm, happy haven for ourselves and others. So make my dream come true everyone, and come experience Mission with us. Our spare bed will be opening in March. Oh, and don't forget to bring your painting clothes.

Past the tipping point, getting twitchy.....

We’ve just returned from a whirlwind tour of Southern Ontario, visiting family and, yes, house hunting. I never thought I would consider moving back to Ontario until my husband brought it up about 6 weeks ago. BC has become my home since I landed here almost 10 years ago determined to put down some roots and mend the wounds of my life’s journey to that point. And this province and the people I’ve met here have done that, and beyond. I have a community of friends and family here that feels good, and the place fits me in so many ways. My husband has always lived here and has close friendships dating back 20 years and his entire family nearby. It would be painful to leave, we would miss so much—and staying would be fine if that’s what ends up happening.

Bur for Sean and I it’s the first time we’ve been ready to seriously entertain the idea of buying a place, and we’re looking at all options in the quest for where to settle ourselves next. Living in the Vancouver real estate market can be discouraging—if you didn’t get in 10 years ago at prices that already seemed inflated, you are pretty limited in your options. It seems for the 6 years we’ve been together we have idly looked at real estate listings and daydreamed about a place that seemed far out of reach. Now that we have our little mini-man it all seems even more important to have a spot we can grow in and call our own (and the bank’s). We’ve waited, biding our time in an apartment and saving our money in the hopes that the market will turn.

I’m not complaining—I feel I am already fortunate and blessed beyond what many experience. Still…every time I load up the Boodge in his stroller with his portable toys and snacks and take him to the park I think about how it would be if he could run in his own yard. I think about planting a garden with him, showing him how to cook the food and enjoying it together. Right now I am thinking about how I could sunbathe or do yoga in the backyard sunshine while he naps (and yes, I’d rather be doing that than writing this). I think about him having a room of his own and being able to scream with glee or fury without my worrying about the neighbours. And I think about him growing up near my parents, and his cousins, people I love dearly and want in his life and mine.

In Ontario, when we looked at the possibilities, we were inflated rather than deflated. We kept reading listings going “Listen to THIS” and then recited lists that amazed us—2 acres, 20 acres, waterfront, swimming pool, old brick house, outbuildings, 4 bedrooms, stunning views….. “Guess how much?” And then we would announce what seems, by BC standards, to be a ridiculously low price in an incredulous voice. We had so many conversations that began with “We could….we would, we could…”

Possibility. It felt good, and sweet. People like us, who work hard and make good income, can actually have a nice place there. Imagine! And coming home, I felt ready to make a leap into a home of our own (and the bank's)and a more rural existence.

But now we’ve been home a week, and the trip has already faded. We’re in limbo until Sean sits down with his employer and figures out if he can move and stay employed with them—which should happen next week. Being in a state of uncertainty is hard, especially when you’re twitching to jump off the cliff and free fall into whatever is next. I get bummed, and restless. Some may say, impatient.

Ah, maturity. Adulthood. We’ve been so careful—we tend to be slow (sometimes I think too slow) to major decisions, and now we’ve arrived in this wonderful place where we have lots of appealing choices before us. So appealing that it’s bittersweet, because we won’t be able to realize all the possibilities, and will have to accept some loss with whatever choice we make. Still, staying the same is not an option anymore, and the future looks bright. So let’s go there, I say, and see what it has in store.