Releasing attachment

Today is supposed to be the day.

I drive to work and hear stories of a failed US economy, of a housing crisis that continues to unfold, and of a banking system that refuses to lend money to consumers.

*gulp*

What if they change their mind? What the lending company decides not to fund our mortgage today and we won’t close escrow tomorrow?

Can they do that? Can they decide not to fund a loan, even though we've paid our down and another lending institution has decided to purchase the loan already? Could we find another lender, or does the whole deal fall apart?

What happens to our down payment? What happens to all the plans we made: the emergency cards we filled out, the school transfers, the address changes?

What happens to our dreams?

*pause*

I guess that is the crux of it right there: our dreams. The visions of swim parties and a barbecues; of graduation parties and breakfasts at the kitchen table and family dinners. It’s the house we wanted grow our family in and the home we envisioned retiring in. We imagine being grandparents in this house.

Does time move more slowly when dreaming is involved? Does the Universe inherently sense when intense amounts of desire are invested, and does that terrific dose of energy throw off the space/time continuum?

*breathe*

It’s just a house. A building. And the best thing about dreams is that they can fit anywhere; they’re pliable. If the loan doesn’t fund, if the deal collapses, if we have to stay where we are… it’s not preferable, but it is doable. Very doable.

My anxiety ebbs as I release my attachment to the outcome. There’s no knowing what can happen, what will happen, what myriad of possibilities awaits. But I do know I am safe. My family is safe. Our life is fine.

No matter what happens, no matter what disaster may befall us... we're together. We're all good.

*relax.*