Some Thoughts On A Home (aka please excuse the cheese)

Sorry I haven’t written lately. I’ve had a post drafted up for a while, but I fear the jinx. Maybe it’s the baseball fan in me, but I am hugely superstitious that as soon as you talk about something, it will be no more. As irrational as it sounds, in my mind, “Hey, we sold our house” sounds exactly like “Hey, he’s got a no hitter going” … Doing so will make it vanish faster than a bullsh!t bloop single in the bottom of the ninth will make a grown man cry.

But now I’ve said it, and it’s out there. We’re leaving the Halfstreet. Just typing those words makes me a little misty eyed. We had no idea it would happen so quickly. We’ve batted around the idea of selling so many times, our friends/family got tired of asking. But one weekend we decided to pack up some clutter around the house, and by Tuesday it was listed. I figured I had some time to get used to the idea, but by Friday we had an offer in hand. By the next Monday we had placed and had an offer accepted on a new house. It all went so smoothly I absolutely refused to believe it was true (well the bargainer in the HSH did come out, so smoothly is a bit of an exaggeration). I think many of our friends/family were caught off guard, including my poor brother who had to hear about it from someone else. For those of you I didn’t tell directly, I apologize, it’s not because I don’t love you! NOTHING goes this well for us. It just can’t be true. We are out of the option period for both houses now, and I had told myself I would take a deep breath when that happened. But honestly, no deep breaths in sight. I won’t believe it is all true till I have the keys in hand.

Plus there is the matter of how I feel about leaving the Halfstreet. The following will surprise no one that knows me very well: I cried when I signed the contract to sell the house. Not just a little tear glistening on my cheek. But buckets. So bad that our dear friend who is doubling as our realtor (and who has worked like a dog for us…any credit on the ease of the process goes to him) felt compelled to remind me that we didn’t have to sell if we didn’t want to. And it’s not that. I’m ready for a change it’s just….

Well.

The love of my life asked me to marry him in the dining room of this house.

There I said it. Its so cheesy I know. But it is also so true. Also true are the facts that I hosted celebrations in honor of the baptism of Sofia, and the impending birth of Brady in this house, and countless other occasions.

Only.

They aren’t countless, I remember every damn one of them. I remember hosting Father’s Day for the HSD, the HSFIL and the HSBIL. I remember last Christmas where my whole side of the family packed it in for Rock Band, and my cousin told me I was an impressive hostess (a compliment I will take to my grave). I remember bringing Ripken home and can still see the evidence of it on some of the blinds that he gnawed. I remember watching Kenyon crawl across the floors and all of us getting a chuckle out of how I had thought my floors were clean. Like I said, I remember everything.

I have no idea where this pile of sap and sentimentality came from. I fully recognize the need for more space, and change of venue. And I love the potential new house. I really really do. Its just. Well. I really love THIS house. And I’ll miss it. But as the HSD would remind me: onward and upward. I have no time to dissolve into tears at the mere thought of leaving the house. I have boxes to pack and furniture to buy. Keep us in your thoughts as we try to get through this process. And by “we” I mean “me” since the HSH shares none of my irrational behavior. Hopefully I didn’t just put the mother of all jinxes on it.