“Look, that house is the only reason we started workin’ this block. Ever since I laid my eyes on that house, I
wanted it.”
This is a line of dialogue from
the original Home Alone movie, by Harry (the short thief, played by Joe Pesci).
I kept using that second sentence in my head for months, in his voice, with his
same emphasis on the word “wanted”. It is the answer I gave myself over and
over again when questioning whether all of this was worth it. I did not want to
back down. I WANTED it.
Fruitless weeks continued to roll
by, but having a further extension of six months meant I could at least have
some peace and quiet and not have to speak to The Developer. We continued our
adjustment to life in Gozo. The new scholastic year started without much of a hitch,
and we were decorating for Halloween and autumn.
We were starting to grow weary of
still having half our stuff in cardboard boxes though. Sure, all the essentials
were out, but we still had boxes and boxes of offseason clothes, accessories,
etc. stashed away at my parents’ house. We were starting to feel itchy with the
thought of not knowing where everything was; of not being completely organised,
and with no end in sight. The flat, while by no means was a bad place, was not sufficient
to store all of our lives in it. Some IKEA furniture was added, at our own cost,
but even that was still not enough.
I remember turning to Connie at
the beginning of December. All the Christmas decorations were up and we were
having a family dinner; the tree lights were on and there was a video of a lit
fireplace on the TV. I turned to her, and that’s when I said it.
“Whatever happens next year, 2023
is going to be OUR year. Whether we sign for that place or somewhere else, we
ARE going to sign something final. No more lingering around.”
I had never spoken truer words.
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