Last weekend, Kirstin and I officially moved out of the house we'd been sharing with our wonderful friends Jeff and Bri for the last nine months. We moved back into Kirstin's grandparent's summer cottage, where we first lived when we moved to Three Rivers two years ago.
We moved mainly because we still owe Kirstin's grandparents money from the first time we lived there. They had been gracious enough to allow us to live at their place for free, but we had to pay utilities. Unfortunately, we didn't have enough money to pay those bills at the time. This time around, we'll be paying "rent" that will essentially consist of the utilities and a payment plan for the money we owe them. In six months, we'll have repaid our debt.
And while that may sound like a great plan financially, the move has been a rather painful experience for everyone involved. It's only been a week, but we already recognize the genuine community we had been building cannot be easily replicated now that we are no longer living with each other.
Kirstin and Jeff no longer cook delicious meals for the house together, enjoying the communal effort of preparing food. Bri and I can't bounce ideas off one another while doing homework by simply running up or down the stairs and starting an impromptu debate. We can't sit around the table together every night, sharing our joys and frustrations from the day. The opportunity for unexpected conversation while meeting randomly in the kitchen is no longer possible.
So I'm left with the feeling that I don't entirely like the decision we've made. But we need to stick with it at this point because we've committed ourselves to the endeavor, despite its difficulty.
Hopefully, we'll be able to work something out in six months to enter into permanent community with Jeff and Bri. And hopefully the separation will somehow strengthen our relationships. I guess we'll know in six months.
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