Lessons on Home Ownership and Independence

Do you see that house behind me?

That’s the dream house.

I used to call it the dream house.

Eighteen years ago, I got married in an

80- square- meter apartment in Shubra.

I lived there for five years. Then we moved to America.

We moved and relocated

eight times.

No, six times.

Then,

Every time, I’d ask the father of my children,

“Is this the dream house?”

He’d say, “Not yet.”

“Is this the dream house?”

He’d say, “Not yet.” Until we got this house.

He said, “This is it.” “Is this the dream house?”

He said, “This is it.”

I lived there for the best three years of my life.

Then,

I was forced to leave it. I left it against my will.

Things escalated, and we separated.

The father of my children and I got divorced.

That was it.

It was no longer my home.

I discovered it had never been my home.

The dream house was never my home to begin with.

And the six houses I lived in over

17 years were never my homes.

I was a guest.

And the proof of that

is that no one

can force you out of your home. If it’s your home,

no force can make you leave it if it’s your home.

But that’s because it was never your home to begin with.

So I moved out.

Anyway, the lesson and moral of this sad story

is that I learned the hard way

that every woman needs to have a home.

A home. A home in her own name.

A home with its key in her hand.

Even if her relationship is excellent with

the father of her children or her husband.

That's a beautiful thing.

I swear, I'm not encouraging divorce at all.

On the contrary.

But it's a kind of security in life,

for a woman to have a home of her own,

one that no one can throw her out of if,

heaven forbid, circumstances change and life changes.

if she becomes unhappy at some point,

she'll have a place. Any place.

Any place. An apartment. A studio.

Any roof over her head.

But let it be your home, let it be called your home.

Look how beautiful that is.

It was never my home.