End of Week 3. We Have a Bit of Walls! And a Heartache.

Reminding myself that we’ve only really been at it for three weeks and wondering if maybe Jorge is right, we will get it done before the rain comes!

Last night the fosa was starting to get lined up with bricks and three walls were going up nicely in the bedroom. I think we may see some window shapes on Monday.

A friend suggested I find a way to get light from the South, last night. This had me awake at 2 am wondering how to do that. The South side is another lot, and while it is not yet sold, someone could do as I did and build right up to their property line. This means that if I were to put in a couple of windows, they could end up being bricked in. Hmm… I had read that North facing was best in hot climates, but man I do love natural light. Something to ponder for today and bring up to Jorge tomorrow. I guess I could just buy the land next to mine and plant a huge garden, maybe invite that neighboring cow to come live with us.

Yeah… no.

So, we’ll see.

My guess is as this starts to look more and more like a house I am going to have more and more realizations, new visions, and changes of mind. Thank goodness my team seems to be ok with this.
Meanwhile, my friend who lives in my home in Anacortes is sending me photos of spring cleaning and the loveliness of our little cottage. It is both inspiring and confusing. Can I love that little home so much and be building another one? I guess so, huh?

One thing that is emerging from seeing these photos is a bit more clarity on the color of the Mexico home. The temptation is to go really bright because hey, this is Mexico. I could paint it bright fushia and there would be nothing weird about it. And yet, something has been whispering at me to not do that. First of all, because I am in the country, near the jungle. I want to be respectful of that and dance with it harmoniously. Not stand out, but more meld. Also, I don’t want to stand out in the neighborhood either, most of the houses being unfinished concrete. So now that I see the colors of my little ATown cottage, I am tempted to go with a muted green, with maybe some dark purple touches. Maybe.

And THEN.

Ukraine.

As I sit here wondering about paint colors and where my kitchen will be, I am aware that people are losing their homes, fleeing for their lives. There are about to be 1.5 million new refugees in the world. 1.5 million hearts without a home, home being so much more than a house. What to do with that? Try and buy the whole parcel of land and build 50 tiny homes? Would people from Ukraine like living near the Mexican jungle? I don’t think so. I remember school friends in the 70s whose families had moved from Algeria to France and what a shock that was. 50 years later, they are still in shock, deep down in their DNA. I remember my Afghani friends in Greece, then Germany. I read about the population exchange between Turkey and Greece in 1923 and the pain that this idea brought on.

There is so much more to giving people houses. Yet it can be a start.
I feel helpless, I feel futile. Frivolous. Achy hearted. I ask for guidance and somewhere I ask for forgiveness.
I keep going. Until maybe some orders come through to do something else.