One Week to Go

This is probably the last weekend we’ll be living in this house.

I can qualify that by saying living “full time” in this house, since it will probably be several months before we’re ready to put it on the market.

But beginning next Friday, our everyday living at Brookwood Court begins.

Yikes.

I ran into one of my mother’s friends at the grocery today, and she gave me a warm, motherly type hug. “You have been through so much this year!” she said.

Well, I suppose you could consider selling one house, buying another, moving into the new house, and then getting yet another house ready to sell a lot.

Yes, I suppose you could.

Especially for folks like us who have never really moved before.

I don’t know whether I’ve become a more sanguine personality in my old age, or whether I’m in some sort of real estate shock, but I’m not extremely perturbed about the situation. Maybe I’m just burying my head in the sand, and come next Friday I’ll have a complete emotional collapse.

But I don’t think so.

One thing I’ve noticed about being my age – stuff just doesn’t carry the magnitude it once did. I’m talking about the stuff of life, the stuff that used to make me crazy and keep me up nights just thinking about it. Now the really big stuff- aging, and illness, and death – that stuff worries me. And I have been through a lot of that in the past three years.

Compared to that, everything else seems so manageable.

Still, this moving thing is Pretty Big Stuff.

I wander through the little hallways in my house, comparing the number of footsteps it takes to get from my bed to the coffeemaker here (9) with the new house (21 and 15 of them are stairs).

I open the backdoor and let the dogs out at 10 pm and realize that starting next week, I’ll have to go out with them. (no fences)

But then I look at the leaves on the 57 trees scattered around this 1/2 acre lot and realize I’ll never have to rake leaves again. I can scorn the snowblower when I walk by in the garage, plan on giving it to Goodwill, because whenever there is more than one inch of snow it will be shoveled for me.

Mostly, I look at a neighborhood that served this family well for 60 years, but one that is undergoing a major sea change, a metamorphosis that moves beyond anything we can do to change it or make it work for us into the rest of our lives.

The next week will be busy and exciting and sad and frightening all rolled into one.

It will be an experience I never forget.

One week to go.

 

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3 thoughts on “One Week to Go

  1. Beautifully stated, Becca. I think the thing about moving when we are “of an age” (and not far away) is that it’s not so much about “will I make friends” (the big deal when I was 10!) but the packing, purging, hauling, unpacking, getting rid of the boxes, remembering where you put the stuff you brought! To me that is far more overwhelming! I’m glad you’re pretty mellow — and I know once the big stuff is done, you’ll love it.

  2. Oh, gosh – reading this made me want to move again. I love moving! and I’ve been doing such a good job of dispersing “stuff” it would be even less of a hassle this time. In fact, if I weren’t so enamoured of my view from this desk, I might look for a different apartment in this complex, just for the change.

    Maybe I’ll just paint, instead.

    I can’t wait to begin hearing the reports from your new digs! Here’s a little traveling music for you!

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