On Thursday I signed the contract on an apartment. My very own place. My first home!
This is really big for me.
When I was a little girl I always wanted Dad to build my first house. He was a chippy and built the wonderful family home that I grew up in, and I was fairly confident he’d like to build me a house when I grew up. Sadly that was never to be, as Dad passed away well before I ever considered home ownership.
Here in Australia most people seem to buy a house at some point, it’s a ‘societal norm’. But for as long as I can remember I’d dismissed the possibility for myself.
The mere thought of a mortgage made my heart beat faster with a tinge of panic, because for me, nothing is more important than being able to hit the road and travel when I want to. When the adventures get insistent, I pack up my stuff and go. Freedom.
I rationalised a lot about not getting a mortgage….Germans don’t buy their own houses, they rent them (Germany’s homeownership rate is one of the lowest in the developed world). Maybe I’m part German.
When interest rates rose sharply a few years ago I consoled myself, see, how lucky am I that I don’t have to worry about bigger mortgage bills.
As my friends recounted their house-hunting stories, weekends spent going to open homes, and getting gazumped at auctions, I said – see, it’s hard work even finding a house!
Mortgage. Death pledge. Doesn’t sound very uplifting does it?
But over the past year or so my thinking has slowly shifted as I’ve chosen to see a mortgage as a new adventure, an opportunity, something to embrace rather than run from.
I’m finally ready for a home base. My own space. And I’m going to be 10 mins from the beach!
My free spirit is excited about giving this a go…. don’t get me wrong, all I really want is a block of land and a tiny house or two, but you gotta start somewhere, and this is me starting. I’m creating a new possibility – me as a home owner (well, the bank really).
I can finally unpack my boxes and enjoy the treasures I’ve collected on my travels around the world. My Turkish rug, my hand painted papyrus from Egypt, my stein from the beerhall in Munch – they will all have a place in my new home.
I can’t wait to have dinner parties with my friends, and sit on my balcony. I can’t wait to buy recycled toilet paper and have lots of plants and herbs growing in pots. I can’t wait to create a space that is special and meaningful for me, a sacred space, my home.
By hook or by crook I’m still going to travel and see the world, and now I’ll have somewhere to come back to. Sure I’ll have to watch my pennies more, but saving to travel is never a chore.
The pendulum has swung. 2015 is The Year of Awesome, and the year I move into my first home.
And I’m as happy as a backpacker with a free lunch.
(Jeez it’s scary though!)