farewell, friend
I'm such a sap.
I remember so clearly, closing on our very first house. In passing, we saw the sellers in the lobby of the attorney's office, and the wife had obviously been crying. I remember thinking at the time how sweet it was, but that I would never feel sad selling a house and moving to something bigger.
I was so very wrong.
Yesterday I had back-to-back sessions in Wilmington, so I had 5 1/2 hours of unadulterated quiet Gretchen time while driving. (Which I do not enjoy, might I add... I'm a social girl at heart. I was sooo lonely.) Anyway, I started thinking about how we were moving in just two short days and all of the memories I have in this house. It was our first house...we bought it when Miller was only 18 months old. It was a labor of love, and one by one we stripped wallpaper and painted each room. We put in more hardwood floors, tried our feeble hand at some landscaping (one may say unsuccessfully), and made it ours. We brought Gray and Everett home from the hospital to this house. I started my business here. We lived here when we found out that Mark's dad died. We had easter egg hunts in the yard, and many visits by Santa and the Tooth Fairy.
Tomorrow the movers will show up bright and early and cart away all of our earthly possessions, taking them to the house 0.4 miles away that is big and empty and does not smell like us. It is still a house, not our home. And it is making me so sad.
I know that one day it will feel like our home. When our smell has seeped in from baking cookies and making dinner, from our soap and our laundry detergent, and from 6 stinky little boy feet. When we've slept there enough nights for us to all wake up and not feel like we're waking up in a stranger's house.
Our house is not yet on the market. I'm sure that will happen eventually (right, Mark?) The other day I took pictures of each room for the realtor, so we have some decent, non-snapshotty looking photos for realtor.com when the time comes. I've posted a few below. Keep your fingers crossed that we get a buyer in a reasonable amount of time.
Tonight we'll have our last dinner here, and sleep in our beds here for the very last time. This is the last blog post I'll make from here. Sniff sniff. Such a sappy girl I am. God help me when we actually sell it and I have to hand over the keys. I'd better start stocking up on the Kleenex NOW.
I remember so clearly, closing on our very first house. In passing, we saw the sellers in the lobby of the attorney's office, and the wife had obviously been crying. I remember thinking at the time how sweet it was, but that I would never feel sad selling a house and moving to something bigger.
I was so very wrong.
Yesterday I had back-to-back sessions in Wilmington, so I had 5 1/2 hours of unadulterated quiet Gretchen time while driving. (Which I do not enjoy, might I add... I'm a social girl at heart. I was sooo lonely.) Anyway, I started thinking about how we were moving in just two short days and all of the memories I have in this house. It was our first house...we bought it when Miller was only 18 months old. It was a labor of love, and one by one we stripped wallpaper and painted each room. We put in more hardwood floors, tried our feeble hand at some landscaping (one may say unsuccessfully), and made it ours. We brought Gray and Everett home from the hospital to this house. I started my business here. We lived here when we found out that Mark's dad died. We had easter egg hunts in the yard, and many visits by Santa and the Tooth Fairy.
Tomorrow the movers will show up bright and early and cart away all of our earthly possessions, taking them to the house 0.4 miles away that is big and empty and does not smell like us. It is still a house, not our home. And it is making me so sad.
I know that one day it will feel like our home. When our smell has seeped in from baking cookies and making dinner, from our soap and our laundry detergent, and from 6 stinky little boy feet. When we've slept there enough nights for us to all wake up and not feel like we're waking up in a stranger's house.
Our house is not yet on the market. I'm sure that will happen eventually (right, Mark?) The other day I took pictures of each room for the realtor, so we have some decent, non-snapshotty looking photos for realtor.com when the time comes. I've posted a few below. Keep your fingers crossed that we get a buyer in a reasonable amount of time.
Tonight we'll have our last dinner here, and sleep in our beds here for the very last time. This is the last blog post I'll make from here. Sniff sniff. Such a sappy girl I am. God help me when we actually sell it and I have to hand over the keys. I'd better start stocking up on the Kleenex NOW.
posted by gretchen at 1/07/2008 10:57:00 AM
1 Comments:
I sat in my empty living room in my first house in Vermont and just sobbed. The house looked pristine -- freshly painted, beautiful floors, and the sunshine streaming through those 100+ year old windows. I'm not sure you ever get over your first house. You have so much of yourself invested in it.
The pictures, by the way, look fantastic. I wish I could buy it and move closer so you all could come visit me and your old house.
Good luck in the move. Soon your new house will smell like it's yours.
Much love, J
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