Late last summer, Log and I moved. On the drive back from a two-week Chicago visit, we discussed, in earnest, what we wanted for our future. Staying in our current house wasn’t ideal. We were quickly outgrowing it. I told him that I liked the idea of having a house on some acreage, room for Lil G to play and grow.
Less than 2 months after that conversation, we were moving into our new country home. What can I say, my husband gets shit done.
What to do with the old house? We toyed with the idea of renting it out, but ultimately decided that neither of us had the time nor patience for that, so we listed it. We took a pretty big hit, but the house was finally closed on this past month.
Before we closed, we cleaned out the house. I made one last trip the say I signed the contract, and sat on the stairs. The same stairs I sat on the day I closed on the house so many years before. I stared into the vacant living room, the same as I did back then.
To be honest, I was sad. This was my first house. That I bought. On my own. I shared it with my dog, Sam, and my cat, George. In this house, I experienced heartbreak and triumph. The joys of home ownership, and the pitfalls of it.
Log moved in, but it wasn’t quite his home. It took me a while to understand that. The pets passed on, the house being the only remnant left of my old life. The life of solitude, and sitting around in the cover of darkness, waiting for something to happen.
And then something did happen. I met someone. Got married. Had a baby. Changed jobs. Opened windows to let the sunlight in.
As I sat there, I thanked the house for being a good house. For being solid while my little family sprouted. For being warm in the winter. Cool in the summer. Dry when it rained. A safe place to bring my baby home to. Allowing me to know what being in a stable house felt like. I wished for the house to have a new owner that would appreciate it and love it just as much as I did. It may sound like a silly thing to some, but when you come from nothing, a good house can mean everything.
After one last glance back, I drove away. Like a new butterfly emerging from the cocoon, I flitted away to my new adventure.