This morning my friend, Zuzanna’s blog post was about moving out of her home. Her feelings were so similar to mine, I immediately needed to write down my thoughts on the same subject.
Having been somewhat forced, definitely against my ever-determined (read: STUBBORN) strong will to move from my beautiful home, I was upset for MONTHS knowing that I absolutely had to leave. It was a home I had proudly established on my own, decorated exactly to my tastes and a home that was SO very comfortable for me, my friends and my family. It was where I had planned to live for the rest of my days, having enough room for visiting relatives and plenty of room for the MANY parties and celebrations that I so love to host!
As I put the house on the market, I actually felt as though the place was pushing me out--like I was no longer welcome in my own home. I began my amazing purging session, giving away the vast majority of the contents of the house and almost everything that I had in the garage. I knew that I was moving into a one bedroom apartment and, with NO desire to STORE anything, and no where to really put anything, I felt it was just better to give it all away. It actually became somewhat of a compulsion, trying to get down to the bare minimum amount of items that I really ‘needed’ to keep.
I don’t need to tell you again, but I will…I loved that house! I have lived in SIX different places over the last six years…but I was in that house for nearly five of those six years. It was my home.
There were two offers made on the house within the first couple of weeks...and one by one, they each fell through. I was mad at the house again--first for throwing me out and then for keeping me captive! With everything either boxed up or given away, I found myself with only one place left in the house to sit down in that last few weeks—at my kitchen table. As I sat there, preparing to put the house back on the market for a third time, I stopped and looked around my once beautiful home--now empty and dusty and with nothing left on the walls. The dozens of Eiffel towers were gone, most of the decor had been given away, and what was left of my treasures were packed and stacked in cardboard boxes. It was no longer my beautiful home. It was a foreclosure. Just one of a million abandoned homes.
And, all at once, I felt the house’s feelings toward ME! I felt my home being so sad…as it held me for the last time…I felt as if its heart was breaking to see me go! I felt sad for my house...the LIFE it once held was long gone.
The amazing amount of love and life that the house had held with the DOZENS of Christmases, Thankgivings (and subsequent dance parties!), Graduation Parties, Mother’s Day Celebrations, Baseball playoff gatherings and dinner parties…was gone! And the last ray of light was on its way out. My house was weeping! I couldn't hold onto it and it could not hold on to me either.
I sat on the floor of my house that night, for the last time, and sobbed.
At that point, I made peace with my once beautiful home…apologizing for leaving and letting it know that it was going to be OK. At that point, I honestly knew that I was going to be just fine too. And I said goodbye.
The third offer came just days later, from a single woman who was living in the apartments that I had just moved into. I never met her, but my realtors told me that she GUSHED when she came into the house. She had seen the photos on line and come through the home THREE times—she absolutely loved how I had painted it and decorated it. She was thrilled when her offer was accepted.
I moved out in March, and though I live across the street from the complex now, I have never gone back to the house…not even to drive by. It still hurts a bit to know that I had to leave, when everything in me wanted to stay.
Interestingly, my new home is just around the block. My new home lost its owner in the same unfortunate way. It, too was dark and sad, as if, just like my previous home, its life had been ripped away.
I got the keys last Friday and each day that I have been in there since, I have intentionally ‘breathed’ a little life into the place…opening windows and blinds and letting the LIGHT shine in. I speak kindly to the (dirty) walls and (pitiful) countertops and (dusty) curtains and (filthy) fixtures…I tell them it’s going to be OK. I tell them it's going to be great.
I play music and sing and laugh and dance in the house…I am letting the LIFE shine in. The walls are getting a fresh coat of bright, beautiful paint. The light fixtures have been cleaned and repaired--some even replaced. The old, dirty carpet has been ripped up, and soon fresh, new, clean life will cover that floor!
I have brought my family and several friends through the house now and we have already initiated it with the LOVE and LIFE and LAUGHTER that will grow and be nurtured there for many years to come.
It's kinda silly I'm sure, but when I drive around the corner in the new complex now, I feel like the house is so happy to see me! It knows that it is loved again! It seems lighter and brighter and happier already.
And I feel like I am appreciated, nurtured, loved...and very much welcomed.
Once again, I feel like I am home.
And there’s no place like it.
Success! The kitchen is all set up and organized!
I have DOUBLE the amount of cabinets that I had in my last home!
I feel MUCH better now! The painter just called to say he's on his way and the baseboard guy is due to show up today too! My new (AMAZING) bed came yesterday too...just waiting on carpet (oh, and paint) in my bedroom...then I'll get that in order too.
I did get to end the evening with my cousin Robin and her (former) sister in law, Ev.
And a cat.
