Dilemma

It was very odd but every time she sat at her laptop to write, nothing happened.  She sat and stared at the screen, at the keyboard and ….. nothing.   It was as if the laptop was inhibiting her imagination, blocking her flow and all her thoughts were disintegrating into dust.  She tried so many times and finally gave in and returned to her iPad …. This worked!

It wasn’t just her writing mojo that had been affected and was failing her.  She was finding it increasingly difficult to make any kind of important decision today, resorting instead to her Diary as a procrastination tool, but first rule of writing a blog – have something to write about.

So she sat and thought and wondered what it was that she had been thinking about lately.  What consumed her?

The Husband had planted a seed in her mind recently and she was struggling to shake it.  He was toying with the idea of moving … again.  Together in their twenty years they had lived in ten homes in three different countries – some rented, some owned, moving on average every two years and she was not too enamored with the idea of moving again.   Love It or List It?  Stay or Go?  New or Old? She was torn between the advantages and disadvantages of both options.

She loved her little Spanish villa – her Casa de Azucar, her Dulche Hogar – her Home Sweet Home.  It was nearly 50 years old, ironically the same age as she was and as such needed much love and a lot of maintenance – she chuckled as she compared that to her own regime of neediness, not vastly different. Perhaps that was why she felt so attached to the bricks and mortar that surrounded her.  They had lovingly restored much of it now, but it would never be shiny and new, and it could never offer the living accommodation a new house could.  But, a new house would never have the character, the feel of an older home that had spent many years soaking up the vibe and the joy into its bones, from the people who had lived and loved within its walls.

So here she sat, looking across her yard at her pool, the mature trees, the ghosts of memories past, flicking through the glossy brochures of new build homes, the promise of making dreams come true, the clever marketing, the beautiful photos with the perfect families.  She had years to make this decision, she did not need to do it now and she knew she would change her mind a hundred times in that time frame.  And she knew her Dulche Hogar would be vastly different by then.   But here she sat.  Torn.  Wanting it all and wanting it now.

Time will tell.   Time will tell.