Benca, mae!
I’m on the train on my way to work. I’m missing you so much!
I have your Tic Tac box in my hand and I’m holding it so tight, as if I could touch your hand. I remember you always used to offer us your Tic Tacs and I never wanted any. Well, there you go… I have them in my had very often now! J
Mother, I have news (Well, it might not be news to you, being where you are and all…): we’ve got a house!
We went to view some houses on Wednesday, your one month anniversary. Mother, I felt a bit weird all day. Actually, it started in the middle of the night (Tuesday to Wednesday). I woke up in the middle of the night, and with my eyes still closed I felt this chill all over my body, from head to toe, passing over me like a scanner light. I wonder if it happened at the same time you died, Mother. I’ll never know though; I was too afraid to open my eyes and didn’t want to wake Craig and ask him what the time was.
Then on Wednesday we went to view four houses. All of them in Pencoed. We really like that area. It’s easy for Craig to come to work in Cardiff and it’s nearly half way for me to get to work in Swansea.
The first house we saw was a repossession house. Remember you’d said something about that before? You told us to call a priest and ask him to bless the house if we bought a repossessed one. Anyway, the kitchen and the garden were beautiful and huge, but the bedrooms were tiny and claustrophobic. No way.
The second house was also beautiful outside, but would be too small for a family. Not good, either.
The third one… urgh! The owner was actually there while we walked around to see it and it was really awkward. As Craig said, it was the most uncomfortable 45 seconds! (that’s how small the house was! Haha)
Now.. the last one… Ah, Mother! You’d have loved this one! It’s a bungalow, in a corner plot, surrounded by a garden! The bedrooms are big and light. The living room is not very big, but it’s cosy and there’s a coal fireplace. So cute! The bathroom and kitchen are a good size, although in need of modernisation.
The area is also very good; one of the best in Pencoed. It’s in a quiet cul-de-sac and there’s a school less than five minutes’ walk away. The train station is less than ten minutes on foot, the motorway is very close (good for Craig to go to work) and there are also supermarkets, a dentist, a surgery and a swimming pool!
All Craig and I could think of was our children playing in the garden with our future dog, Benca. (he might be a Labrador)
Craig and I kept talking about it on the train, going back home. We kept looking at each other, smiling and saying: ‘Should we go for it?’
We looked like two children about to go on a ‘huge adventure’, walking further into the garden. Haha.
We got home and sat down with the house details, photos and floor plan (oh, how I LOVE floor plans, Mother! Any similarities? J)
We drew, scribbled, knocked down walls and built extensions in our heads. We talked and talked. We decided to go for it.
Craig woke me up before our alarm went off yesterday (before 5:30 am!) to show me the email with the offer he’d sent to ‘Barbie’ (our real estate agent, haha. You should’ve seen her, Mother. Definitely a ‘Barbie’ doll!)
The house was for sale for £114,950. We offered £108.000.
We went to work, anxious, waiting for a reply.
Craig phoned me later. The owner had refused our offer. Craig then offered £110.000 and he accepted!!!
When Craig phoned me back to tell me the house was ours, I couldn’t believe it, Mother!
I’m so happy, but at the same time it seems so wrong! So wrong that you’re not here for me to tell you all about it. You’re not here to give suggestions, to cheekily stick your nose in all our plans…
Are you sure that there hasn’t been a ‘blip’ in the universe and all this has just been a huge mistake?
Mother, Wednesday, 13th March, 2013, was an unforgettable day: one month since you’re gone; we finally found ‘our cantinho’. Craig and I are so happy, so close, so ready, waiting for Barbie to show up, under a hailstone rain and everything… Just magic!
Mother, I still get hungry sometimes.
Sometimes I don’t want to write. I just wish I could talk to you and hear you back! Are you sure it isn’t possible?
I love you Mother.
I will love you forever.
Dani xxxxx
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