It took me a while. Weeks in fact. Weeks of trying to figure out how to impose my will upon this house. How I was going to make her understand what I wanted of her. How I wanted her to change for me. It was almost a month before I realized the house wasn’t fighting me. She wasn’t trying to resist my wishes. Ruin my vision. Shatter my dreams. I was so focused on my frustration with not being able to get what I wanted, that I didn’t take the time to understand what she was saying.
Instead of talking over me. Consoling herself with tales from the past. Blathering on for the sake of hearing her own voice. She was doing just the opposite. It took me a while to understand that all the sad stories were meant as a guide. A kind of users manual with the troubleshooting section right up front.
In order to realize my vision I needed to lay the foundation. The only way for my renovations to be successful was to layer them onto a solid structure. The house was simply making sure I did things the right way.
