Real Estate

black female bloggers
black female bloggers

Everyday I look at houses that I can’t afford. My saved search on Redfin delivers straight to my inbox each morning and I comb through listings meticulously. I read somewhere once that instead of saying I can’t afford something to say “my budget is allocated to other things”. It’s a hopeful spin that signals to the Universe that I don’t accept this.

I picture myself in kitchens and living rooms, sorting through paint colors and CB2 accent chairs in my mind. I see myself there even if the how escapes me.

There is nothing more frustrating than knowing exactly what you do not want, but having no clue of the opposite. I can name in precise detail things that have made my skin crawl and my soul feel hopeless. I can tell you exactly why financial freedom has floated hazily through my mind, but cannot detail the path to which I’ll actually get there.

Sometimes at work, whilst planning out a campaign for a client, we’ll have to back into metrics estimates using the final goal. We’ll know what we want something to cost, but not how many it will buy us. I liken that to my life right now. I see with some modicum of clarity the vision that lays ahead. I know what it feels like, I know what it looks like, but I just don’t know how I’ll get there. I can’t really decide if that’s better or worse than the days when I didn’t know up from down at all.

My new home will have a generous kitchen with double ovens and a white marble island. It will have a stand alone shower and a tub for soaking. The walls will hear both my joy and my anguish. Memories will be made and tears will be shed.

So I walk one foot in front of the other, towards a version of myself that feels most authentic. The walls build themselves brick by brick with every step. I’m hoping that one day I’ll look around and find myself at my white marble island using the Kitchenaid mixer that I’ve owned for 3 years and baked with once.