I heard a lecturer discuss resiliency once. He said people
who have a strong resiliency factor meet challenge head on, or go around it to
the next thing. They don’t lie down in the road to get mowed over. Having been through
some very difficult times and come out on the other side still standing, I
figured we were good to go with the resiliency thing.
That was before we realized the house we’ve lived in for
twenty years doesn’t work anymore. Maybe you can relate.
It is the most gorgeous place. We raised our children here. We’ve loved and laughed and done a whole lot of crying here. But, for lots of reasons, it’s time to let it go. After we chewed on that for a while, and finally came to grips, we agreed to sell the family home.
It is the most gorgeous place. We raised our children here. We’ve loved and laughed and done a whole lot of crying here. But, for lots of reasons, it’s time to let it go. After we chewed on that for a while, and finally came to grips, we agreed to sell the family home.
The realtor came over and walked around with a notepad. When
his eyes landed on the chipped paint in the living room, he made a note. We
came to the torn wallpaper along the staircase, another note. The dripping
faucet in the bathroom seemed to have picked up speed as we poked our heads in
there. And, man, how many years had we been growing mildew in the shower?
Suddenly, the plaster was cracking everywhere. The floors
were so scuffed it was sad. And the windows…it’s a wonder we could see outside.
They looked like someone had thrown up all over them. Needless to say, we had
some work to do.
First we started hauling stuff out of the attic to make room
for the stuff we needed to haul up into the attic. It took a 28 foot truck to offload
the small portion of our collection that we could bring ourselves to part with.
We had a yard sale. I watched the years being snapped up by bargain hunters.
When a woman tried to get my daughter’s bassinette for a buck-fifty instead of
two dollars, I said no. It was the principle of the thing.
The six thousand pictures that had been excellent dust
collectors all this time had to go, as did the several absolutely essential
stacks of paper that covered my desk, and every counter. The closets were not the
safe havens I’d imagined they would be. As it turns out, prospective buyers
open everything and look in, so we couldn’t just shove it all in there.
Then there were those windows. As much as we rationalized,
they had to be done. It was snowing that day, but we’d run out of time. As an
aside, let me mention that Windex all but eats the skin off your hands if you
use enough of it, and no amount of lotion will bring it back. You just have to
grow a new batch.
The windows took days, as did the floors and the bathrooms
and the zillion crevices into which every kind of filth had made its way. My
God, we’d been living like a bunch of pigs.
Next we started painting: hallways and doors and walls that
went on forever. There was no place to stop. How could you leave that dingy
mess there right next to this fresh coat here?
Slowly we got things cleaned up, but then came the ordeal of
living that way until the house sold. You make your damn bed up behind you as
you’re crawling out in the morning, no questions asked. Not so much as a spoon
gets left on the kitchen counter and you should expect a much deserved tongue
lashing should you ever leave your toothbrush out on the sink. Shoes go in the
closet. I found it easier to just step in with them on, then pull my feet out
and shut the door. That way, I don’t have to bend over.
We dust two times a week and feel guilty it’s not happening
on a daily basis. We haul the vacuum out of the neatly arranged coat closet
each night before we call it quits, and even that’s not enough. When we flush
the toilet now, we just grab the brush and give it a swirl right then and
there.
Should someone drop by and toss his coat on a chair, we
stare at it and wonder how long before the friend will leave. There will be no
overnight guests anymore because the spare room has been staged and they will
mess it up. And we don’t even think of cooking. It took several hours to clean
the stove and I’m not about to do it again.
It’s a frightening existence and we were getting the tiniest
bit snippy with each other. So, we went looking for a positive spin. Suddenly,
there it was, dancing before us on layers of the life we had laid down. Beneath
the debris were memories, rich and textured. We’d almost forgotten them. The
clutter of time passing had begun to cover over the beauty of time spent.
When we cleaned the house, we scraped away the dullness of
spirit that can sometimes gather. All the focus on where we’ve been has led us
to where we want to go next. We are, at last, looking forward.
That being said, I am fairly certain we will never stage a
house for sale again. Ever. We’ll just give the next one away, as is.
My house is on the market, Donna. For a whole week now. I live alone, and I have been here only 5 years, so not your experience. However, it is disconcerting to come home to evidence that strangers have been in my house. The lights on that weren't, and off that were. The toilet lid that was down, up. A book askew. But when I found Mr. Potatohead, on a shelf for visiting grandson, had been explored, I smiled. That was a good thing.
ReplyDeleteI understand the grief, though. My house doesn't have history, but it and the garden have been my primary relationship for five years. The grief is enormous. Thoughts are with you.
ReplyDeleteSelling a home can be a long and complex process. For you to find out how much your home is worth, you need to have a realtor assess the market value of your property. This usually involves revamping the entire house (just like what you have done) so you can ask for a competitive purchase price from buyers.
ReplyDeleteOfelia Bertrand
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