Many years have passed since I first wanted to have my own country house. I even managed to get a plot of land to build my house on.
It's one thing to want something and quite another to have what you can.
I like to feel close to nature, something I learned from my mother. I was always with her when she planted, harvested, and weeded the garden. That was my introduction to gardening.
When I reached the age of dreaming, I began to create in my mind the house I would like to live in, of course, when I no longer had work commitments.
That's how a supposed friend offered me a place near the sea, with enough land to build my dream house and garden. I started investing in it. What I didn't know was that my friend had kept the best part of the information to herself.
The place was not developed; it was necessary to do some kind of land survey, which meant a struggle to get the services installed. That was the least of it. I participated in every meeting, in every dispute over what was required.
When I realized that I had invested in something that didn't even have a bill of sale, I understood that I had wasted my time.
It was a place a little way out of town. Most of the people who went there were local residents who went fishing. There were also some people who knew how remote the place was and lived there growing crops, and of course, the undesirables: unscrupulous people who take everything they can get their hands on.
I built my house, put up walls and floors, installed window guards, and all that was left was to put on the roof. I bought the materials and was ready to start work. Then things got worse.
Meetings were no longer held regularly, and people lost interest in going there. All requests for services were suspended. What had been achieved began to fall apart.
That was the end of my house. The next few times I was able to go to the beach, I could see how the neighbors who lived near where I built were leaving the place. They were no longer planting crops. Everything was being stolen.
That's how I lost my dream of a beach house, a country house, or whatever you want to call what I built there.
I lost all that investment. My supposed house remained there, isolated from the world and highly prized by undesirable elements. All that remains in my mind is the memory of everything I built and all the plants I was going to grow there.
Dreams are like that; sometimes they come true, and sometimes they don't. For some reason, I still don't understand, my dream of owning a country house for my final years of peaceful living vanished into thin air.
My dream, which was almost within reach, vanished into thin air once again.
I still live in my mother's house. My siblings told me I could stay there, and I've been living here all these years, but I still hold on to the idea that I should sell this house and buy a smaller one. This house has become too big for me; I'm tired of walking from one place to another all day long.
I know I won't be able to have the country house, but I can have a smaller place to live. I keep dreaming. In my dreams, I can have that little house I've always wanted to live in.
I never thought that at this stage of my adult life, I still wouldn't be able to fulfill this dream.
This is my entry for the PH community's “August Blog Contest #YungAkalaKo.”
I answered only one of the questions asked in the contest:
"What was your dream home versus where you currently live?"
Dreams vs. Reality #YungAkalaKo