a writing prompt Back roads and Busy roads

I wanted to do the writing prompt from  ( http://sundayswhirligig) again, and the words this week are...

praise, raven, dignity, cloud, forget, spirit, path, roads, song, singer, more, rain

 This is my offering (with the prompts used in purple) 

It is personal, as my stories are right now. 

One day I will return to fiction, or other forms of writing but I dwell in this style at the moment, understanding that creativity makes it's on path and I just walk on it. Love, LeeAnna

                                         Back Roads and Busy Roads

They had looked at so many houses. Some were homes where they could see into the lives of those who wished to sell the house. Some were houses with all vestige of humans removed in a remodel. Some were large, some small. Some were fresh and some very very stale. Some yards were small but nice, and some were tiny areas to be walked through to leave the house. Some were on busy roads and some were on back roads but no roads led to the right house.


Oh but life is complicated. None  felt "right"


They were not stupid, they knew no place was perfect. But they thought some place would be right.


They liked some aspects of most places. She could work here! The yard was lovely. The walking paths were good. When the clouds parted and they craned their necks from a balcony they could see mountains between roof tops. One had a glorious studio space facing a lovely view. Each place had one good quality.


So they made this their life's work, as it's an important step. Comparison charts. Pluses and minuses. This but that.


cost

It came down to values not value. It came down to the hard part of deciding what was most important. Which factor they should make a decision based on.


She was a spiritual person, and waited for guidance and that feeling. She wanted the feeling. The one where she had "came home" and the other factors were not important, the decision was made in an instant that it felt like the place.
Their place.


Trouble is, the feeling never came.


She felt left on her own to pick from all the homes that didn't sing to her. Just pick one. Now! Hurry up! The haven she sought, the place to belong, the starting point to making a life, the safe place to fall had to just be a house. For the first time in her adult life, she had to spend most of their salary on just a house. But she had always had the feeling before...now her guiding light was dim.


She had a conflict between the vision she was shown of their new home, and reality.
She had to somehow come to terms with the disconnect between the expectations, the hopes and dreams and the reality. . She had to just... pick... one. She no longer had the luxury of time from which to choose, and it hurt her spirit.
 She was not good at decisions in her head, she was good at decisions in her heart but her heart refused to choose.


"Wait" it said, and insisted, trying to be louder than the clock ticking.


tick
tock
Her dignity slipped like tears down her face, as she saw house after house that wouldn't work. The tears came unbidden, embarrassing in front of strangers. They all tried to comfort her by saying it's out there, you haven't found it yet. But she feared it was not.

 She would just move with all the uncomfortable change that implied, into another house where she would not find the comfort she sought.
The joy was missing, the anticipation and happiness were missing.
It was just a house, and she would make it a home. Yet she still delayed one more day.

Her new mantra became, "it will be okay" ...and she tried to believe it