Joys of Home Ownership, Chapter One

I have always thought that home ownership was just a wonderful euphemism for noose around your neck. Having been raised in Vermont by two native Vermonters, one of whom owned our home outright, kind of, and the other who never believed in land ownership- I guess I never in a million years thought that I would ever a) want to own a home or  b) ever qualify for a home loan. Time went by, as it sometimes does, and one day it was made clear to me that, indeed, I was the only sibling of 10- one deceased, but she would have made a land purchase any minute prior to her death-who did not own land or a home.

It did not bother me, really, until things started happening in my family. Many things happened, tragic ones.

Our father died followed by much tribulation.
Our niece died.
Our mother died.

And then? Our oldest sister died. At that point it FINALLY occurred to me that I was not different from any of them. I was just more obstinate. Who was I not to dream my mother's' dream- of owning something? To have a place I called home? Yet, that had never been our father's dream. All our dad ever wanted was to put down roots, grow a family and look up at the sky, find a wooly  caterpillar, predict the weather. All our dad ever wanted  to experience outside of home was to sit "Indian style" on a big rock in the woods, smoke his pipe and listen to the birds. Although he didn't build "the girls' cabin" he definitely could and would have enjoyed living in it, alone, had we not tried to occupy it ourselves six months of the year.

So I guess I have done what they may have wanted after all...I spent the first half of my life sitting on rocks, running through fields, hiking up mountains, skiing across meadows, moving around like a rolling stone. Gathering memories, adventures, experiences that I now can write about. And perhaps I will live the rest indoors. Well, sleeping indoors. Well, most of the time, anyway. OK, most of the time in the winter.