I've been feeling a little restless lately and I'm blaming it on the seven-year-itch.
Oh, don't get me wrong. I'm not suffering from relationship restlessness (that one hasn't reached the 7th year milestone yet). It's almost 7 years since I started life anew. Yes, more than 2,000 days have passed since I moved back to live with my parents.
The first few years were more dramatic. There were debts to pay, kids to console, a new business to run and loads of other stuff to cope with. Things started falling into place over time to the extent that I feel that my life has stagnated. I have not made much progress after that.
What was meant to be a temporary move while I sort out my life and claim back my apartment has dragged into 7 long years of living off my parents.
My visions of the kids and I living in our own little house, each with our own room, the dogs in the yard and us lounging on our own furniture still remain a vision after all these years. While I'm glad that I've come this far today, I do feel a little sad that my dreams are still out of reach.
On a good day, I am so grateful that life has been good to us but on some days, I can't help but feel inadequate that I haven't provided even the most basic need for our little family, that is, a roof over our head. I know we'll get there some day. Maybe I'm just too impatient.