We’ve been busy over here. We put the house on the market last Tuesday and had multiple offers by the weekend; we chose one on Sunday and are currently under contract. (Wow!) We’ve already had the code inspection and the house inspection, and our closing date is currently set for June 27.
So come July 1st, P will be both jobless AND homeless. (He doesn’t begin at the new job until September.)
I have such mixed feelings about all this. It’s a wonderful thing, being able to move back to the NYC area where we’ll be closer to dear friends--not to mention my work. This point hit home as I sat in traffic for two hours getting home tonight. There will be no more of that once we move. No more covering over 150 miles each day just getting to and from work.
And yet, I love our house and our neighbors and our neighborhood. I love that we live right next to a college. I love that we live right next to the college stadium and I love how at night, when the stadium lights are lit up, there’s no need to turn on the porch light in the back. I love that baby-j can go "gar-diiin" in the small dirt pit formerly known as an herb garden out in our tiny backyard. I love that baby-j said his first words and took some of his first steps here. I love our home. I love that I finally feel at home. There is something about this house: even though for the first few months here all I saw were the many flaws, I have to say that it is the first place in my life that I have truly felt is mine. Ours. This is probably because of all the work we put into it when we first got here, but also because it’s such a great size for us. Wherever we move will be smaller, and a rental, and won’t have all the things to which we’ve grown accustomed to here. We’re headed out tomorrow to find a new place, and I’m just a bit sick about it.
This will be the fourth consecutive year that we’ve moved in spring, and I think this one, without doubt, will be the hardest.
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