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The Most Difficult Feeling You Can Have

Ray had a big farmhouse with Moth, her husband, whom she deeply loved. On that land they raised their two kids, loved their animals and offered holiday spaces in nature for people.

It was their home. They repaired it, groomed it, put their love and sweat into it. And then one day, because they didn’t read the small print in the contract for investing money in their friend's business, they lost it all.

They were left homeless. And also with the fresh news that Moth had a degenerative disease with an agonising prospect.

Bereft of all they had worked hard for, all that they loved, their shelter and safety, they decided to walk the South West Coastal Path, their only belongings a couple of backpacks containing what little they needed for the journey. They had to figure out what to do with their life while processing the grief.

In the middle of reading the second book, where Ray and Moth have been offered a farmhouse to live in with land needing to be rehabilitated, and Ray’s book has become a success, I started to feel jealousy.

How low of me, right?!

At least, that’s how I felt. I knew how difficult it was for them to live on a small government budget, to suffer people’s abuse (I didn’t know there was so much hatred and intolerance towards homeless people), and not know how long Moth had to live.

I knew how difficult it was for them later to live again under a roof and start trusting people again. But still I was jealous.