I never really took the time to realize what home meant. As a child who grew up in many different homes, I guess you can say that home was always the place I felt most comfortable. Who doesn't love to sleep in their own bed, eat at their own dinner table, and curl up on their couch and watch television? Home is where most people are able to relax, and enjoy downtime. If you're like me, it's the place where you cuddle your dogs, have home cooked meals, dance like nobody's watching, and clean the house naked when nobody is home.
I moved into my basement apartment in September 2017 after a painful summer. I spent July, and August at my brothers house living out of garbage bags, totes, and dressers that were piled in his garage after a breakup from a three year relationship. Although I was a special guest in their home to them, I felt like an intruder. I did my best to stay out of their way while planning my escape. I longed for something of my own. For so long, I conformed to the routine with my ex, and even while living with him, it never felt right.
I remember sitting in the garage some nights while everybody was sleeping, and I would stare at the pile of belongings that were collecting dust as the days passed, and I would silently cry. I was 28 years old, I had no money, my heart was broken, and I was living with my brothers family. I was so fortunate to have family to take me under their wing, but I felt like such a disappointment. The shame inside was unbearable. You could say that life felt pretty hopeless at that time. Not to mention, my ex was begging me to come home.
But I just couldn't... I knew if I was ever going to be free, I would have to survive on my own, even if it meant taking steps back.
I have this friend. We've known each other for a very long time. Not only is he somebody I look up to, but he is the definition of a Saint. He helped me on my desperate search to find an affordable place for Landon and I. He is a real estate agent, so he wanted nothing more than to help me find a good home.
After weeks of checking out some of Hamilton's cheapest rentals, one popped up that was a little bit out of my price range. I wasn't sure I'd be able to afford it, but the hard working Kylie was yelling "I CAN MAKE IT WORK!" I sent the info over to my friend, and he said "Lets go have a look. It's worth a shot."
We came during an open house, and as I walked in, my heart skipped a beat. I had already looked at several houses at this point, and none made me feel the way this one did. It was small, freshly painted with brand new floors. The owner was pretty cool too. We got talking about music, and art, and seemed to have a lot in common. I knew in my heart I wanted this place, but I also knew I'd have to rob a bank to come up with first and last (but I didn't want my friend to know that-shame was a very common feeling for me at that time).
My friend stopped me in one of the rooms, and he said "Do you want this place?" I said "YES! It's close to Landon's school, and it's in the area I grew up in. It's perfect." He said "Okay, I'm going to say something, and it's going to freak you out, but do not say a word. Just go with it." I hesitated for a moment, and the owner walked in.