The Camden Hill Chronicles

I wouldn’t describe us as having a close relationship, though we had a clear connection. He was my big brother, but didn’t really live with him very long. Maybe 5 years or so of my early childhood. Just long enough to feel tortured from time to time by the time I was 12. When I moved away, and saw him less and less, I really didn’t identify as having any siblings.

Only now do I see how he influenced me. His sensation for my curiosity of technology as he allowed me to mess with his stereo. His positive, laid back energy. His appeal to design and creativity, in a way that came out in the form of CAD designs.

He is missed. As I obsevvivley draw up new home designs and tweak here, tweak there. CTRL-A + DEL, and try one more time. I think of him and the detail he must of brought to his work. Like my father, he was known for quality work, if not quality relationships, but still, one who others looked up to. I aim to keep his memory alive through similar dedication.

My husband told me “Home is where you are,” yet somehow the aspiration to find a new place to call home begged for all my attention. Home here was no longer as inviting as it once had been. The idea that the figurative grass would be greener on the other side was somehow not shakeable. Unfortunately, all we have is grass and those of everything else has just skyrocketed.

Well, at least the opportunity is still in front of us. We just don’t know how long it will take to get there. Kinda wishing we could win the lottery, but I’d have to buy a ticket to even start.

I was hoping that crossing the line would somehow bring the next chapter into focus. If anything it felt more like starting over with new goals and an increased pressure to get it right. It could literally now mean life or death. I wonder how my own mother felt as she made life changing decisions at about the same age. I wish I had paid more attention, It’s been almost 13 years since I’d last had a chance to seek her advice, or hear her tell a story.