Member-only story
The House
In the last few days, I’ve been feeling a range of emotions I can’t quite pin down. I’ve tried to explain them to myself in different ways. Must be my moon cycle, the moon cycle, the stars, end-of-year feelings, burnout… but it doesn’t feel right to blame the planets for my emotional state.
I’ve been walking around my neighbourhood with my dog, Odie. He stops to sniff and claim his little corners of the world. Meanwhile, I look around: the street, the nature strips, the houses, the road, the trees. I’ve always liked looking at houses while I walk him. For the last two years, I’ve been imagining which ones I would live in, the renovations I’d make, the garden I’d design to grow veggies and flowers. I even used to imagine the family I’d grow inside those walls.
But this time, I’m not thinking about any of that. The window-shopping used to feel like a quiet dream of stability, the hope that one day I’d have a job to afford one of those houses, a partner to build a life with, a family to fill the rooms, the possibility of settling down.
Today, the houses don’t carry those dreams. Instead, I feel sadness, confusion, anger, a kind of languish. Odie pulls the lead; we keep walking.
A few streets later, the feelings haven’t left.
