Waiting for Anthony

That's the name of the estate agent's valuer. I'm not sure I want him to come.
As I walked down our road, I thought how much I like it here - the views, the feeling of space. Opening the door - knowing what would be inside. It's rather sentimental, but I just know how hard this whole process will be.
And yet - can I feel just the slightest stirrings of excitement? Of an adventure creeping over the horizon?
Part of me desperately wants to be free of the sense of attachment to this property. I ought to find my security elsewhere. All I need is somewhere to live, and I WILL have that. But my fear of returning to the poverty I grew up in is deeply rooted. It will take a lot of careful hoeing to remove it and allow me to be replanted, and flourish, elsewhere.
So for now I'll sit and wait for Anthony.