Who'd a thunk it would go so fast?
Less than a week ago we listed Mom's house with a realtor. He was the same realtor the nurse at my Most Excellent Lung Doctress' office used to buy her house. He came highly recommended, and it was noted that another nurse in the same office was using him to try to find a home to buy. I told the other nurse we had a home for sale, but she didn't seem interested. She thought it was out of her price range.
So we met with Andrew and signed papers.
Lo and behold, he had a buyer for us the Monday after we signed papers on Saturday. Granted, the first offer was more than a bit ridiculous, but it was a starting point. Since then we have haggled back and forth, back and forth, and finally come to an agreement. We sign papers on the sale tonight at 5 p.m.
We're selling it to the other nurse in the doctor's office.
Barring any problems with the inspection or appraisal or anything else, a new family will be moving into Mom's house soon. Things will change again, as they have over the years.
Mom's house is the last on the block to have a new owner. All the other neighbors we grew up with are dead and gone, one by one. The Moories, the Becks, the Coulsons, the McLeods, the Malotts, Mrs. Nye - all have passed on. The gradeschool across the street is now a school for kids with behavior problems. The neighborhood has slowly gone downhill.
But in my mind I still see it as it was on those lazy summer days of childhood. Days when I could go up to the garden and pick a ripe tomato, wipe it on my shorts, and eat it - dirt and all - with the warm juice running down my face. There were plenty there, as well as grapes that you could squeeze out of their skins and pop into your mouth to be savoured whole.
There were forts to be built with the cuttings from canna plants. There was a creek down the street to explore, and crawdads to catch. There was a swingset to climb on underneath the hickory nut tree, and if you were able to swing high enough you could touch one of the low-hanging branches of the giant maple. There was a fragrant lilac bush, and Grandma's honeysuckle grew along one side of the fence. A sour cherry tree had its place in the backyard as well, and provided many pies over the years- as well as switches for behinds of misbehaving children.
The grass was lush and green. A weed wouldn't dare show or it would be obliterated on sight. Flowers were abundant. It was a place to imagine, to dream, to play. There was no air conditioning, and it didn't matter. I never noticed how hot it was because there wasn't anything else to compare it to. We rode our bikes up to the kiddie pool about ten blocks away every day that we could, ate Popsicles and fudgesicles and ice-cold oranges from the fridge. We had hotdogs for dinner with lemonade and chips, and thought we were feasting like kings and queens.
Do I miss it? Oh, yes. And I would go back in a minute if I knew then what I know now. I would be a totally different person. Nicer. Less caring of what others thought. More caring of other people. More discerning about religion, sex, drugs, alcohol, health, marriage, relationships, food, education, career choices. And I might even do it right this time instead of making all the stupid mistakes I've made my entire life.
Wouldn't we all?
But instead we're stuck with what we are and where our lives have brought us as a consequence of the choices we've made. We can only begin from here.
And hope the change keeps on a-comin'.