by June Chua, April 23, 2004

I admired the art on the wall. The artist had scratched out the form of an airplane taking off on a piece of photographic film. He then blew it up to a five-by-four-foot size and treated it with chemicals. The jet had an orangey-yellow glow to it; I could almost feel the heat. For $1,400, I could have this beauty. It spoke to me. Freedom, it yelled. Travel. My favourite pastime.

I was at an opening at a downtown Toronto gallery. My friend Paul had invited me because he knew the artist. We sipped our free wine and discussed the artist's technique. I asked Paul what he'd been up to.

"I've finished fixing the house," he declared. "That's it, I'm done."

Paul, a single guy, had just bought his first home. He'd spent February and some of March doing minor repairs and renovations. I congratulated him.

"Aren't you and Mike going to buy a home soon," he asked, "and join the rest of us?"

I reminded him that mortgage companies aren't impressed when you tell them you're a freelancer. "Besides," I pointed out, "I've never wanted to own a home."

"But you're dumping $700 a month into something you'll never own," he replied. "If you had a house and you sold it, you'd get that all back, and more."

"It's not about logic," I told him. "It's about the feeling. I don't feel comfortable owning a home."

He kept up the debate for about 10 minutes more. Then he backed off, seeing that it was starting to upset me. When the subject of home ownership comes up, I'm back to my four-year-old self – to the day my aunt took me for my first ferris wheel ride.

I was excited at the start, until the carriage we were sitting in got higher. When it reached its peak, the wheel stopped and we swayed. I panicked and ran to the edge of the carriage, crying and screaming that I wanted to get off. I threatened to jump. My aunt grabbed me and held on tight. We went around once more and dangled. I screamed as my aunt's arms bonded me to her. It was the longest ride of my life. I thought I would die.

When I think of buying a home, the word "mortgage" looms large. Mort. Gage. Divide up these words and you get "death pledge" in French. Now that it's spring, I feel a death grip – all these For Sale signs sprouting. Every time someone talks to me about buying a house, my palms sweat, I feel anxious and my breath becomes short. It's like being on the ferris wheel again.

A few days after seeing Paul, my mother brought up the same subject.

"Imagine the money you could get back," she argued.

"Mom, I know the argument. It's not about the logic. I have this irrational fear. For the longest time, no one I knew that owned a home could travel. They would dump all their time, money and energy into their house."

She tried another tack. "You don't have to do that. You can move in and not do a thing."

"Really? How many people actually do that? I'd suddenly want to nest or renovate."

We spent half an hour on the topic until all I could mutter was, "Nothing you say will convince me."

The two discussions made me realize I've become an anomaly among my peers. I've rented for 15 years and now three-quarters of the people I know own houses or condominiums. They've all bought in the past two years. Since 2001, first-timers have made up a majority of homebuyers, fuelled by a robust economy and low interest rates. It's obvious that it's a good investment. According to the Canadian Real Estate Association, the average price of a home in 1996 was $198,000. Now, it's $310,000.

Many people I know had put off home ownership because we graduated into a recession and then the high-tech bubble burst. When there are no jobs and work comes in the form of contracts or "casual" labour, would I continue to be able to pay a mortgage?

I've spent most of my savings on travel. Starting in 1995, I've probably spent close to $40,000 on it – a nice down payment on a home. If I had to bet my money on something, it would be heading off to see foreign people and places. Those experiences have never let me down. I never gave it a second thought – until now.

I considered Paul, who bought a house on his own, 25 minutes from downtown Toronto. And from what I can tell, he's no richer than I am. His lifestyle hasn't changed and he even looks serene.

At the gallery, as we finished our wine, he'd given me one last bit of information to chew on.

"Oh, I've also booked my vacation. I'm leaving for Argentina in a month."

"How could you? You're a homeowner!"

"I'm using points. It won't be that expensive down there. It can be done, June."

I looked at the artwork again. The jet taking off. Maybe the artist does ferris wheels.

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LETTERS:

I too have felt the pressure to purchase a home. After all, I am married...isn't that synonymous with buying a home. Even my single friends have begun to buy up real estate and no one can quite figure out why my husband and I have not.

Well, like June, I have things that I want to accomplish with my money that would make me a lot happier than owning a home. I want to go back to school and further my education, for myself, without the financial burden of making my mortgage payments and keeping a nest egg just in case a huge repair needs to be made. I want to travel while I still can (read: no kids), I want to use my money to make me happy.

Selfish, you say? Perhaps, but in the grand scheme of things, we all have years to buy a house and make it our home. If it is something that makes you happy, then by all means, buy away. But homeowners, leave us "non-home owners" alone. We might just purchase a home when the time is right for us, not you!

Sarah Newcomb | Toronto