The house has finally closed, and I realized today I could stop holding my breath. The sale had so many twists and turns, and its share of plumbing disasters, timed perfectly to foil the process. This last week we had storms, and this tree-filled property has a history of something big coming down in a downpour. I had a nightmare that the large pine off our bedroom came down into the house. Friday, I returned from T-Mobile to find a decent size tree blocking the driveway. No real property damage, and no neighbor property damage, but, of course, another expense to get out of the house. I think our house spirit (nicknamed Charlotte) was trying to keep us from leaving. I tried digging up St. Joseph in the front yard the day before the closing, but could not locate him. After two attempts, the grass was pretty tore up and I decided to take it as a sign that I should leave well enough alone. Maybe Charlotte, my mother, wants him to stay buried upside down forever, watching one of her favorite places to visit.
After the movers left, I returned to the house to retrieve some last minute items and to do a few final chores. I walked from room to room, and thanked the space for all the family gatherings, protecting 3 babies that grew up too quickly, welcoming 3 of the world’s best dogs that claimed it as their own, nights by the fire with a glass of wine, camping in the backyard, movie nights with Indian food, and eight years of sheltering us while we home schooled.
Moving on from the house is what I must do, but I won’t pretend that I am not grieving the loss of a home.