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Morning Song by Darlinggirl
January 2012

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One can't go wrong with a house that has a red door...
January 20, 2012

During our dithering about the older house on Pine Street, someone else bid on it! Of course, this does not mean the house is sold. Only that another couple bid on it and are now waiting to see if the bank accepts them or their offer.

Still, that happened very fast. And yes, older homes need to be inspected for structure and foundation and joists and termites and lions and tigers and bears and mould and rot and what not.

It's odd, having one's children be so vocal as to their thoughts on this next, "Forever" home. (Forever I reckon until we are hauled away to a Massachusetts or possibly Iowa old folk's homes. My sister and cousins take great delight in speculating as to where we will end up when we are old, frail, sick, tired, broke, annoying. Wait, aren't we already a bit like that already? Nevermind.)

Smaller-houses. Eighteen hundred feet tops! (Easier to care for. Easier to pay someone to do the heavy cleaning.) Lawn under two acres. (Whoa, there, one place I love is twenty-two acres of mostly heavy woods.) Not in the back of the beyond. Or middle-of-nowhere.) Within no more than fifteen minutes of Baptist Hospital Northeast. Hopefully, close to Louisville hospitals. (That makes a person feel precociously old. Of course, my aunt pointed out that I did do everything born, crawl, walk, talk, cut teeth, grow up, marry...well she did too and she's an amazing person for someone half her age!) No long commute. (They are being really really stern about this. Note to self: The girls' parents are all at least fifteen to twenty years older than we, so perhaps they want to get us fairly settled because their own parents are having issues? Baby Boy I's father-in-law has had a knee replacement recently, two moderately serious heart "episodes" and Type II diabetes. Retirement is not setting well with him either.)

So, I wandered off into another town that is in the circle of limits the boys have suggested. Up on a hill, white, with a glossy red door with a brass door knocker. (Baby Boy II had driven by it when I was still in the hospital and told me that he truly believes a red door means one can't go wrong with a house.)

It has tremendous curb appeal...very cottage-y looking with silver maples around it. Smaller than what I would like, sixteen hundred square feet...but well-arranged, open, great windows, fireplaces, wood floors and kitchen. One room is painted UK Blue...that will have to go!

Yet, I keep wandering back to the old houses way off in the country. A few in town...and I just get all weepy. Again. When I try to explain this sadness, I can't. So I shrug it off to still being a bit wobbly from ending up in the hospital, the tests and check-ups since then, and dealing with my aunt, my mother's last surviving sister and her lingering illness.)

Of course, driving around, touring houses, starting the whole loan process...this makes me super anxious. Nervous. Banks. Realtors. Brokers. Deja vu all over again.

Then I return home and I look around at the house and the whole idea of moving comes crashing down on my head. Stuff. Boxes. Cleaning. Boxes. My husband's study...oh lord.

This funny sense that the boys are "handling" Mom. Seriously, the patience and careful kindness since I came home and my last check-ups is making me nervous. All the presents...oh I love each and everyone. It's just I feel like life is shifting again...aren't I'm the parent? Okay, parenting changes as the children grow up. Right.

It was very sweet of the boys to decide to look around, check out houses and little towns and make flow charts and lists and plans...and light a fire under us, I suppose! It just feels funny, at times, and I'm not sure at all how to act.

And of course, getting all teary-eyed and everything isn't helping. For some reason, I've been like a little cloud since I got home just in time for Christmas. Even for me. I am truly afraid I just might burst into tears in front of some broker or realtor as I watch one of the boys or daughters-in-law text and chat. (It doesn't help that my husband's nephew's wife had a baby early yesterday that is in very bad shape in NICU and all the cousins, including our sons and their wives are very very upset.)

Well. It just keeps a coming, doesn't it? Life breaks out all over.

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