I was having a look at the markets trying to divine some inspiration on where things were going, but I didn't have much luck - my head just isn't in it tonight, so I think it is better if I just walk away and let it be. I find that when I try and force it, things are far more likely to go sour.
Tomorrow, the window change begins. Besides us cleaning up the garden, this will be the first move that will significantly change the looks of the exterior, so I went out and took a few shots. The funny thing is that I quite like the looks of the windows we have now as they add plenty of character, but unfortunately at 60 years old, they need to be replaced. Many of them do not open and a couple of them have a bit of draft, which is not a problem now, but will be when it hits minus thirty Celsius in the winter.
I quite like this shot.
The rough cast rendering is going to get painted in a few weeks and it will completely change the outside feel of the home and I am hoping that it is going to look fresh and clean and emphasize the summer garden. In the winter, everything is either grey or white anyway, so it should "blend in", but with the size of the house, it won't blend in much - especially once there are no leaves on the trees and it is exposed to the road. Once painted, there is no going back.
I grew up in a very old house (built in 1926) and it had quite a similar render and was painted white - although I am not trying to replicate it, white is pretty much the only color (perhaps light grey) that will suit this kind of house. We are surrounded by traditional wooden blue, pink, red and green homes, but it just doesn't fit the style for this place and perhaps, not our personality either.
While some people restore homes to their former glory, this isn't that kind of house and I see it more as a place that evolves and changes to suit the current needs of the owners. The couple we bought from let it degrade in places, as likely, they weren't spaces important to them and therefore spending resources to repair or improve wasn't necessary.
For us however, we want the house to be used, to have practical corners for more than just storage space and while we can't afford to do it all now, we want to lay a foundation that we can build upon as we evolve, as we age as a family, as our daughter moves out (she has been talking about moving out of home for the last year already) and for when we retire and eventually, when our daughter takes hold of it again. The evolution of the house represents the lifecycle of our family and I hope that there will be a lot of memorable activity here, a home of shared experience.
My brain doesn't work well tonight and my thinking feels even more tired and muddled than usual. This is due to the medical treatment I assume, but I feel a bit like when I look through the old glass windows of the house, distorted and warped, scratched and with a few cracks here and there.
I like writing under these conditions, as while I don't have much stamina, it gives me a chance to present from a different perspective - as I think from a different position to my normal default, I am me, but I am simultaneously transformed into something less familiar to myself.
When I first got ill at 16 years of age, I spent a lot of time alone and dwelling on my physical condition, generally feeling sorry for myself. I went from the athletic kid that could run, jump and play a thousand sports, to bedridden within 4 months and I paid a heavy psychological toll as I witnessed my expectations and assumptions about my own future, sink to the bottom of an abyss, my heart following closely behind.
I learned a lot about myself at those times, I also accepted that my life would not only be very different to what I had thought, it would be likely that I wouldn't live a very long life either. It is ironic in some ways that a lot of the things I write about look far into the future, because I still carry the acceptance of my own death, I don't really see myself being there - I see others there in my stead. I am okay with this and it is worth the work regardless.
One of the few people who did see me in the future was my dad and while he doesn't remember who I am today and will soon be gone from this life himself, I would have loved for him to visit our home and meet his granddaughter - it would have been one of those shared experiences that makes this house, a home.
Taraz
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