Dear Condo,

It's not that I haven't enjoyed living here. I have, I really have. You are the first place I owned. You are the first place I paid mortgage payments on. You will always be special to me.

I couldn't believe that we could afford something like this when we first saw you. The towering windows that let in so much light. The high ceilings, the french doors and beautiful working fireplace. The window in the bathroom. The character that hangs in the room like an expensive perfume after the wearer has left.

So much has happened in these walls; it's been a big year. Moving in, the giddiness of preparing for a wedding, the keen disappointment of having to postpone. And the waiting,

waiting,

waiting.

Living here when I kicked Daryl off to Brandon so that I could have some "condo-time." And maybe my favourite few stolen moments when we stopped by between the wedding and reception with our slurpees, climbed the stairs in our wedding garb, picked up our overnight bags, looked at everything so disheveled in the mayhem of wedding preparation and I thought, "this is our home."

And maybe you will be home to our new family, too. Maybe the groanings of birth will take place within these walls, and the joys of being new parents.

But maybe not. Please don't see it as a slight, but I really hope you sell before then.

I really, really hope.