Last weekend we drove through neighborhoods and saw some houses. Having talked about down-sizing for months, we took the first step by scouting out areas and crossing some off our list.
Sunday, we toured one.
The story goes like this: Realtor friend, best pals with Hubbs since 2nd grade, set up the showing. We stood outside in the sunlight and talked through possibilities.
On our approach, we were greeted by a deep throated bark. A neighbor called out, “He’s {the owner} not here, and the old dog is inside, but he’s harmless.” So, with our friend, in we went. Stepping into the kitchen, our friend ahead of us, we heard this, “Well hello there, I thought you’d be in a cage or something.” An ancient grey-faced Golden Retriever lay on the kitchen tile, squinting up at us, his tail thumping hopefully. We melted. All three of us. Speaking softly and moving slowly, we reassured him he had friends in us. He accepted a pet and went back to his nap. His age and physical limitations were obvious and my heart went out to him, the stress of dealing with all these strangers traipsing through his home.
The house is not new, it’s 80’s-centric, with lots of oak.
I love oak and so does Hubbs.
The kitchen faces east, and the morning sun streamed in across the tile, warming the fur of Golden boy. I smiled at his choice.
Looking up and down and all around we understood now the sheets on the furniture in the photos, and smiled at Golden boy who didn’t look capable of such a leap. We saw hope in the gesture.
Walking through another person’s home is weird. We found ourselves whispering. I am not one to open closets and peek into shelves but when you’re considering a major purchase you have to push through that and stay objective. I tried.
By now the men were in the basement, talking about foundations and egress windows and the age of the furnace.
I wandered through on my own, stopping to love on Golden boy, and taking in my thoughts.
Finding myself in the kitchen again I acknowledged what I hadn’t yet articulated: I could see myself living there.
I didn’t care that the stove was old or that the counters would need to be updated.
I could see myself standing that kitchen looking back over that long yard, mature trees swaying softly in the distance, sipping coffee and pondering.
I could picture the smallest bedroom as my reading nook & office with a bed for sissy when she visits.
I could see youngest boy and all his musical instruments and amps making a mess like he does here.
I could picture tousle-haired grand kids at the table eating breakfast and talking excitedly about our day. I could hear holiday gatherings. I could feel home.
I think in life you either know or you don’t and sometimes the quickest path to finding what you want is to cross off what you don’t.
We made an offer, they countered, and we accepted.
Inspections are underway but .. it looks like we have (another) house!
I will miss this one, but I’m happy our big oak table will fit right in at the new/old house.
“Home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling”
― Cecelia Ahern, Love, Rosie
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How about you? Do you instantly know – one way or another – your position on things?
