Happy Sunday, friends! Hope you’ve had a great weekend – mine has been a good mix of packing, playing, and catching up on sleep.
Why packing, you ask? Oh yeah, I bought a house! They’ll hand me the keys on Thursday of this week, and I can’t wait! It’s a strange, scary, and exhilarating process, as many of you know. After spending most of my adult life in New York City, buying property wasn’t something I expected for myself – at least not for many years. Then, after talking to some friends about their experiences, I decided to take a look.
“Just drinks with Lucy,” I told myself. “She’s a realtor, but she’s also my friend. No big deal.”
Then came the lender. “Just a pre qualification letter,” I told myself. “It’s good for 18 months. No big hurry.”
A couple weeks later, I figured I should go see a few places, just to get a feel for the process.
The second house I saw was perfect. Not in a fancy Platonic Ideal way, with remote control window shades, cavernous rooms, and an indoor pool, but perfect for me. When I started dreaming about this day, I kept thinking and saying “my problem is I just want one of those cute brick houses from the ’20s.” The stream of fixer-uppers with vinyl siding was discouraging.
Lo and behold, house #2: a double brick home built in 1926. It has a west-facing front porch perfect for sunset cocktails, a big back yard with a vegetable garden, a couple of fruit trees, and extra bedrooms for visitors!
So now I’m packing up my things and, for the first time, moving to a place that’s mine. A place where I can paint walls, rip up carpet, and put in a porch swing – with no one to answer to but my own personal taste. A place where I can put up a Christmas tree festooned with the ornaments family members have been buying for me these last 30 years. Where I can set up an office where I can write surrounded by art my dad bought at the gallery in Nashville, IN. Where I can settle in.
I recently went home for our ladies’ only family reunion and sifted through all the boxes of childhood things, and it was bittersweet. Opening up these boxes felt like greeting long-lost friends. More accurately, like watching a home movie of my old life, back when my family was whole, and I filled countless notebooks and drawing pads with dreams for the future, poems about nature, and colorful drawings.
It was liberating to let go of old runner-up trophies that carried the weight of years of shame and inadequacy. It was affirming to pick out what was meaningful to me and set it aside to help carry this past into my current home. And it was fun to pick out favorite toys for my cousin’s kids.
It’s going to be a lot of work, and at times, I’m sure I’ll miss the “maintenance request form” option of apartment life. But for now, I’m just excited!
Here’s wishing you all a wonderful rest of your Sunday, fun and refreshing enough to carry you through the work week. Cheers!