Fallingbrook

My old family home just went up for sale. It was the house we lived in when things started to break down in our family. My husband was suffering in more ways than I realized at the time. After his mother’s stroke and the sudden death of his beloved father, he had been hiding the difficulty he was having keeping our wonderful world afloat. The dream house. The nanny. The kids all in private school. The summer house in Nova Scotia. The weight of it all was too much for a grieving person to bear. He couldn’t keep up with it all and things began to fall apart. He hid it until he couldn’t anymore. I find out from others - the tax department calling, the nanny’s paycheque bouncing.

At the time, I was angry and I was hurt. I trusted my husband. We were a team. How could he have hidden all this from me when I could have helped? I had left my job years before, but I could have helped. Things didn’t have to get so bad. He didn't want to disappoint me, he said.

We sold the house and moved to a much smaller home. He lost his job. He was now deeply hopeless and sunk into depression. He was playing video games while I built my hobby business into something that could sustain us. He didn’t help and seemed like he didn’t care anymore. Eventually, frustrated and scared, I left.

I didn't think I had a choice. I did what I thought was best.

Years have gone by, and life is very different now. The dream house hasn't changed that much. The walls have all been repainted and the basement renovated. The tree wallpaper is the same in my daughter's room. She picked it out herself, and my best friend helped her put it up. It is so pretty. I wonder if she remembers it.