We left our home six months ago. With an hour until settlement, we closed the gate. She was sold.
I’m constantly asked if I miss the house. The 60 acres. I’m asked why we sold when we loved it so much.
Looking back I try to think of the one thing that really cemented the decision to sell and embark on a life on the road. But I can’t. It was a build up of things. The feeling and dream has always been with us to travel. Just like living on acreage in a small country town. Ever since Jason and I met, we spoke of someday beginning a life in the country. And after 7 years of living in Brisbane together, we took a risk sooner than expected and jumped into a season we won’t ever regret. A season we thought only possible once we retired.
Felix was 3 at the time. Our first born. First of a few - we had hoped. Until just recently we realised our secondary infertility journey had stretched to 9 years and another baby simply wasn’t to be.
Life has proven to us that it, truly is, very short. And so we decided to no longer have forever plans. Or plans for later. Forever homes. Or forever careers.
On a day in 2022 we felt tired of maintaining our 60 acres and renovating the homestead. Life felt stagnant. Jason asked me to call an agent. We agreed we’d sell our home.
This season was over.
Neighbours wanted us to stay. To rent the house out so we could come back. I was almost convinced. Fear was creeping in, and keeping the house felt safe.
But the sensible answer was to sell.
I’m often caught thinking, is our home really now someone else’s? My kitchen, my deck. My favourite trees, my safety. Can we really not just drive back into our gates and carry on?
Sometimes it catches me and is unnerving. But then I remember that change can be uncomfortable, but necessary. And that the path we’re on is the right one for us, for now.
And so on we go. Living in this season of travel. Unsure where the next gate will open and welcome us home.