Detail of a house in Shelburne, Nova Scotia
When Brad and I were just dating and still in college, I used to spend a lot of time driving from Waterloo to New Hamburg. I had a regular driving route but every once in a while, when I was feeling dreamy or nostalgic, I would drive through Baden to get there. Almost in the middle of that small town was a really rundown property. The grounds were large and so overgrown that you could hardly catch a glimpse of the mansion held inside. The house itself was in need of a lot of care. The paint was a drab grey, fading and peeling rapidly. The windows had curtains that never moved and although I didn't sit out front and stare for hours on end, I know that the windows were never opened. I imagined the air inside to be stale and musty. I always drove by at night and there were never any lights on. The iron fence that surrounded it was bent in places, rusty and would probably need to be scaled in order to gain access. I'm not sure if these recollections are true or not but that's how the house exists in my head and I loved it. I loved that house.
The house was bought by the town shortly after we finished college and an unlimited amount of money and resources were thrown in its direction. It has become a pristine example of early Ontario architecture and design. It's beautiful now but I don't love it anymore. I don't like to drive by it and I don't fantasize about it like I used to. I drove by it last weekend and realized something very important about myself. I am in love with the possiblity. I was in love with that house when it was a neglected shell because it engaged my imagination and gave birth to dreams I wouldn't have otherwise thought of. Now that it's finished and its path defined, those dreams and ideas are gone and the house holds nothing for me.
People have often asked me how we could possibly leave our house when we've just finished all of this work. I always had a hard time explaining myself but after seeing that house in Baden I can explain it perfectly. Our house was full of possibility when we bought it. We gave birth to dreams we wouldn't have otherwise thought of. We put our imaginations to the test. We have turned it into something that we love but it's finished now. It holds no more room for imagination or experimentation or boundry breaking. It's done and I'm ready for new possibilities.
We're going to be moving into a big, beautiful, Victorian house in Lunenburg, Nova Scotia. It's a house that will be perfect for dreaming and imagining and boundry breaking. I'm excited and I'm in love with the possibilities this holds for all of us.