My House

My old house is for sale and I have some complicated feelings about it.

The House is not big. It’s quaint. The beauty of it being it’s location in the heart of our little Village.

I love it.

The house is a black and white modest cottage with a gambrel roof that shelters special memories for me.

It is where my son took his first steps. His little feet determined to carry him across the black and white tiles in the front room. It is the space he grew from a little baby to a curious and capable toddler. It is also where I became confident as a Mother.

A bungie style jolly jumper hung from the beam between the living and dinning room. The laughter and joy it brought my son, Cayden, was limitless. He thought he was flying and wanted to spend most of his time in it. Otis, my giant teddy bear of a wolfdog would chased him around in circles. These are the sounds the walls keep safe.

There is a dent in the wall at the bottom of the stairs. Otis and Cayden made it the night they collided at the top and flew down “a la Atreyu and Falcor”.

Within these walls I also cried, often more than I laughed. The House holds those memories too.

This is the house I started training my psychic abilities. It is where the seed of inspiration sprouted roots of my future career.

It is where I connected to the previous tenant before us. An older man that loved the house as much as I did.

I remember having a walk through with the Landlord before we moved in. Upstairs is a hall closet. I opened it to check out the space, and a gust of wind flew through me. It was the strongest spirit communication I had felt in a long time.

My landlord shared a story about the previous tenant months after we moved in. The tenant lived in the House until he moved into hospice. He never wanted to move out. In a way, he never did. With us, he liked to hang out upstairs in the hallway near the closet, and oddly, also in the bathroom.

I helped him pass over when I knew I was moving out. It was a cornerstone moment in my psychic development. It allowed me to gain full confidence in my abilities.

I am undeniably connected to the story of the House. If you look up the address in Google Maps you will see me and my boys walking down the driveway to begin an afternoon walk.

It was the height of the pandemic and everything was closed, restrictions still tight. Otis needed his walk. I needed a break, the two of them were bouncing off the walls. Our walks were the only time to get out and get away.

Two year old Cayden fought me hard over not wanting to wear shoes and a hat. I conceded on the hat, the shoes were a must. He will immediately get out and run after we cross the bridge. I’m not always fast enough to grab him before he would slide under the safety bar to wrestle shoes on.

By the time we actually got out the door, I was sweaty and close to tears. My mom guilt ever present then with every perceived mistake.

I saw the dorky car with the robot looking camera on the hood. I chuckled, but was not amused this moment was being memorialized. The picture shows my distain radiating through my blurred face.

Out of all of my experiences in this House, the good and the bad, my most profound is that I found my voice. The rose coloured glasses came off, and eventually, it was where the tower of illusion fell, allowing my marriage end.

This is were the complicated feelings live.

Is it even mine to loose? Was I trying, again, to lasso a star? Did I even get close? Is it in my best interest?

I pulled cards this morning to help make sense of it. Why is this out of my reach?

The 8 of Pentacles with the Justice card lead the way of my spread. The card of hard work and mastery of skill blended with the card of truth, legal matters, and positive outcomes.

This helped, it always does. It is comforting to know my wishes are still in progress.

When my ex said he wouldn’t leave the House, I had no chose but to walk away. I had to accept fighting over the House wasn’t going to accomplish anything. It was emotionally grueling to accept, but I left with my son and dog, and never looked back.

This change, however, opened up an opportunity, and I moved into a wonderful home that we would call our own in the same neighbourhood. The transition was as easy on my son as possible.

Over the years, and through the pandemic the Village has changed. I always knew it would. In fact this is what I love about living right here. This pocket of Ottawa is so charming and full of potential.

Yesterday, I walked by the House with my son to take a picture of the For Sale sign. I needed one final look before it sells.

The cedar trees have doubled in size. The bush near the driveway is healthy and plush, even though 3 year old Cayden used to jump on it when the City plow covered it with snow. The peonies along the side are pulled out, which is unfortunate. The massive white and pink blooms smelled like fairy dust and promises kept.

Thankfully the ugly metal décor flower I always hated is gone.

We stood there for a while in silence.

I asked my son how he felt, and for the first time since his father moved out, my son expressed grief around it not being “his”.

It was no longer our house, it was no longer his fathers house. As we looked at it from the outside, unable to go inside, he realized his trees are no longer his either.

“Mom, what’s going to happen with the trees I planted?”, he asked. “I don’t want anyone to cut them down. What’s going to happen to them?”

This broke my heart. He has always been attached to trees. He has his favourites around town. He climbs them and sits in them when he needs energy.

I didn’t know what to say besides, “they ARE beautiful trees. I am sure they will be protected”.

We walked home, both in our feelings.

As more businesses have come into the Village, I’ve always believed in time, I would be one of them. I would daydream about where it would be, and how big it would become. Over and over again, my visions kept coming back to the little black and white cottage on Tighe Street.

I know what I would change about the space, and what I would keep. The hand crafted stair case, the trees my son planted, the black and white tile in the front room, these would all be safe. I would finally make it my own. I would breathe life back into it.

I believed for so long that when the time came I would be able to purchase it myself. I would experience this magical full circle moment. A hope I have held tight to my chest. This hope is what has got me through some very low times. What I saw as possible, is the driving force behind why I am still here working as hard as I do.

But the time has come, and while I am in a much better place, I am not further ahead. Still struggling, still not free. The house will be on the market today, and I have to accept I am not able to call it mine at this time. I will have to let it go, again.

So that is where the complicated feelings land. My dreams are still floating above in the clouds while I’m down here waiting to catch them. I put my arms out, and nothing falls. The barrier I thought would be lifted still remains.

I wonder if my connection with the House is my ego wanting retribution? Do I just want to take back what was taken from me? Is it healthier for me to let it go?

I go over my business plan. I meditate with my vision, and it only becomes clearer. So my complicated feelings grow into confusion with this disconnect.

The energy of the year, the force of the eclipse, it’s all within the plan for positive change to happen. The false starts and pull backs I have experienced so many times are supposed to end. So I will continue to have faith in what alchemy I can create.

My dream is not dead, it just may not be the outcome I hoped for.

I’m not going to panic or give up. I’m going to allow myself to pivot.

I hope whoever gets this magical building makes something special out of it.

Love it as much as my son and I did.

And please, if you can, I ask that you take care of the trees in the front.