We've been contemplating a move since before Eliot was born.
It takes Eli and I years to make major decisions--we're rarely on the same page at the same time. It's a wonder we ever conceived a child.
My problem is indecisiveness. It takes me at least fifteen minutes of agonizing debate, weighing the pros and cons of each option before I can even buy tampons or order from a restaurant menu, so it doesn't take a whole lot of imagination to see why buying a house would present a challenge for me. (And the sad part is that after all this soul searching, I always buy Tampax Pearl and I always order the chicken strips.)
For Eli, I think the issue is a bit more complex. He feels a strong connection to the house that we're in because he's put so many hours of work into it. He's transformed the place from a shag-carpet covered little bungalow into a beautiful home.
Taking the next step is scary. Saying "yes" to one choice means saying "no" to all other options. But what if the next place we look at has a pond? What if the next home to come on the market has more acreage for less money? What if the grass is greener in the other backyard? What if? What if?
I have to keep reminding myself that no matter what we choose, it will be the right decision. Because we will live with it and make it right. It will fit into our lives and we will only vaguely remember how we were before. Or in this case, where we were. After all, "where we love is home," yes? And Eli and I, along with Eliot, can love one another anywhere, regardless of pond or lack of pond, wooded acreage or no, 3 bedrooms or 4. No matter what we decide upon, or refuse to decide upon, we'll always be moving forward. Together.