People have moved into my house in Indiana.
I don’t know if they bought my house or if they are renters, really, it shouldn’t matter. I mean if they bought my house, hopefully they’ll care for it and love it as much as I did. But if they’re renters they might not love it as much if they don’t own it.
I feel like I need to whisper this next part. It’s embarrassing to admit. And sad.
As long as my house was still for sale, still uninhabited, I had this hope that maybe, maybe circumstances would work such that we’d get to move back to Indiana and slip right back into our old life, have our old friends, and just forget this whole move to Tennessee.
Those people, living in my house, I don’t even know them, but oh how I resent them. I feel so angry at them, for taking MY house, for taking my friends, for getting to live the life I want to live. They will be able to walk across the street for a cup of sugar only to end up staying for dinner. I probably won’t get to even see my neighbors again, likely ever, but they will. They will get to vacuum my frise carpet and bake in my double ovens and wash their vegetables in the vegetable sink in the island.
I don’t want to know if they have children. I don’t want to think of THEIR children sleeping my in MY children’s bedrooms, I don’t want to think of them taking my children’s place at the neighborhood get togethers.
This is so ridiculous, I know, but what I don’t know is how to get past all this anger about the move. It’s been months and it still feels as unfair as it did in September. Why did this have to happen? WHY?? I don’t want to be angry at those people who are living in my house, because I KNOW that it’s not MY house and hasn’t been since we sold it to the relocation company in November.
I guess it’s just that those people took the maybe away.