Image courtesy of opendoor.com
It wasn’t love at first sight but I knew, when I walked in, she was the one for me. I like cute and quaint. For a starter home just for myself and future cat, dog, rabbit (as well as several bookcases), she’s the perfect size. Lovely neighborhood. A garage (I’m fine with one-car as long as the driveway can fit two). Close enough to the stores I’m familiar with. Great bedroom sizes and closets.
Image courtesy of opendoor.com
I love her imperfect kitchen. The backyard fence I’ll eventually have to replace as time goes on. The huge patio with the black lizards I’m terrified of so my father will have to remove.
Image courtesy of opendoor.com
I love her because she isn’t perfect. She needs time and work, but even without it, she’s still a damn good home. I saw myself knocking out the kitchen cabinets, getting a quaint IKEA kitchen, scraping the popcorn from the ceilings, replacing the bedroom carpets with wood. Painting.
Molding.
I didn’t know until I went looking that I was searching for a house that reminded me of myself–imperfect. Flawed. Needs work. Not as pretty as the new girls on the block but worth it. Been through some tough, hard, ëvil shît but still smiling. Still standing on a solid foundation. Maybe some ants but no termites lol.
It is my 2019 goal to own a home. It’s never been about “the American Dream” for me, oddly, but about something to call my own growing up 3rd of five.
<cue Middle Child by J. Cole>
Google images/J.Cole-Middle Child
And while I can say I used to be “bad” with money, all that changed when I turned 22.
Today, I still struggle with saying no. I still struggle with what “Yes” left me with when I couldn’t say “No” to the people who didn’t deserve the yes. How much my Yes gave them and ripped away from me.
I still struggle with those who took things even when I never said yes.
But just like Miss Butler says, in order for a Phoenix to rise from the ashes, she must first burn.
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K. Alex Walker 
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