For a moment it was superseded by hatred and anger, though he couldn’t say towards whom it was directed. Was the family here at fault for loving each other? And could he be certain that his father, or even Zola, had not at some point loved him? How will I ever know? he wondered, again feeling overcome by solitude. What use were such thoughts, anyway? He dried his eyes. He promised himself that one day he would make a family of his own and he would be certain what they felt for him.
Awhile ago now, but all I had was a job & a crappy room in a crappy house rented out to two sisters who I should have never even dreamt were good flatmate material.
I can recall riding the bus home, I’d look out at the houses with their windows lit up & wonder if I’d ever have a place of my own, I was never going to of afforded it on my own.
Then my parents bought a unit right near where I worked & rented it out to me, I can still remember the first time I was brought here after work by my Dad, all I could think was “all of this just for me?” I could never explain how much my home means to me, it’s not just a place, it IS a home.
It’s also a good buy as I believe they paid around 150K for it back then, it’s now worth between $800K to $1M, it’s not the actual unit, although it’s now totally renovated & looks amazing, guess I have to thank the flood for that, & all my new everything as I lost all my old everything, but anywhos, it’s the land here that’s the money spinner.
