Wednesday, December 5, 2012

saying goodbye

On Monday we got a voicemail from our landlord informing us that he was going to sell the house. As a courtesy, he decided to check with us before he sold it to see if we would be interested in buying it. As a courtesy, he decided to check with us one day before he listed it.

Our house. Our lovely 1950's-era house, with its turquoise tiled kitchen and its wild Key West-inspired walls in the garage, with its odd little corner fireplace and its closet-size bathroom. Our odd little aging home, destined to become someone else's.





We've been plodding through the week with heavy hearts. We feel like we just caught up from the last move. After a grueling 14-hour drive from Virginia to our new house in Mass., we dragged ourselves into the empty living room and lay, exhausted, on the carpet. Just think, Derrick said, we won't have to do this again for four years.

It's almost funny now. Almost.






And so, with the expectation of having at least four years in our darling little rancher, we dug deep and let our roots grow. We tended the yard, pulling weeds, dreaming of the blueberry bushes we were going to plant along the fence. We bought a deep freezer for the garage, got the heating element in our aging '50s oven fixed, fixed up the bathroom. It wasn't ours, but it was. Our landlord lived so far away that we fixed everything ourselves. Just Derrick, me, and the dogs, in our own little cottage just outside of Boston. It was like a fairytale. It was like a dream.


And now it's over. It's not like we're unable to accept a new chapter in our lives; rather, it's that a chapter has been forcibly closed on us with out our consent. We don't want to start over. We don't want to find someplace new. We weren't ready for this door to close yet...and it was slammed in our faces.




Moving in.

So day by day, we're saying goodbye to our quirky little home. Slowly pulling away from our Boston dream house. Searching, desperately hoping something new--and better--and dog-friendly-- dogs-friendly--and commutable--with an oven that actually works--will turn up. A single family home with a decent commute in Boston. A house with a yard. A landlord that's okay with German Shepherds. A house in our price range.

Frankly, readers, it feels a little like looking for a damn one-eyed unicorn. But we'll move forward. Put one foot in front of the other. Pack up one box at a time. Not because we're exceptionally strong, cheerful, or determined. Because it needs to be done.

So we'll do it.






We've been slowly healing ourselves after the blow. We just moved eighteen months ago and now we're going to have to do it again. So we go out, do our errands, ogle over houses and neighborhoods. We come home, put on the oldies, and slowly shake off the blues while we cook. We stir the risotto and silently hate our stove. We stack the plates and silently hate our landlord. We simmer the broths, chop the garlic, whisk it all together to Suzie Q and Time of the Season. Just like we did in our  apartment in Virginia. And I remember: as long as we have this. As long as we have these nights spent in the kitchen, singing the blues and dancing to Aretha and Otis Redding. As long as we have good music to dance to, good liquor to drink and good food to cook, we'll be just fine.

But lying in the dark Monday night, all I could think about was packing up our little house into a truck and driving away. And some part of me--buried beneath the can-do attitudes and the silver linings--some heavy, weighty part of me wanted to cry.











 






12 comments:

  1. That landlord is on my list. Just saying it for the record.

    My heart goes out to you guys. Hugs to you and best wishes for you to find another dream house soon!

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  2. What a horrible time to have to move. Hope you find the perfect for you home soon.

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  3. I love the pictures. Makes the house look super-homey. I kind of miss it already myself.

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  4. I have to admit, when I saw the title my heart skipped. I thought you were saying goodbye to blogging because of your last post. Fortunately that wasn't it, I truly might have cried. But equally unfortunate you're leaving your house. I'm sorry that this was sprung on you and Derrick. Moving is one thing, moving when you don't want to is 100% different. I hope you can find soemthing that falls within your requirements. As sad and disappoitning as it is, try to focus on the positive parts. New neighborhood, new adventures, new appliance hating ;)

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  5. So I wrote this big, long comment, pushed "Publish," and my computer freaked. And it's gone. AYE YIE YIE.

    ANYWAYS, the gist of it was how badly - like, really badly - I felt for you and Derrick. As someone who LOATHES moving and lives in constant fear of our little downtown hole-in-the-wall apartment being put on the market, I cringed and felt complete and utter outrage on your behalf. What a STUPID time for your landlord to do this to y'all. Nothing but coal for that jerk this Christmas season.

    I hate when people tell me "things happen for a reason!", but I'm praying for your sakes it's actually the case. Maybe a new, magical house will become available. Or your current house will suddenly implode or be in the path of a future tornado. Whatever.

    The Christmas season ain't over yet. There's still chance of a miracle.
    Or tons of holiday parties with free booze, at least.

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  6. I spoke with Karma. After she is done with me she is heading on over to your landlord. Moving sucks. Wine?

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  7. Your having to say goodbye to something that you thought would be yours forever - or for at least a reasonable amount of time - reminds me of the summer I had and so my heart goes out to you. But there are worse things and everythign happens for a reason - cliche, I know, but don't we look back on all hardships and eventually end up thinking those exact things anyway? It will all work out for the best. Don't let this damper y'all's holiday spirit!

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  8. Oh what a shame you have to move. I am going to send lots of positive energy and good wishes that you find an even more perfect house to love. (with cheaper rent and better kitchen)

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  9. Oh Nicki, what a bummer. I'm in love with your house now too. Good luck with your search, hope you find your new dream home soon, with a character of it's own to love! You know it's you, Derrick and the dogs that make it home right? Got same thing here, we moved in October just found out we have to move again in February - just planted my veggie patch FFS! Try making a list of all the things you DONT like about your house? Got nothing? Damn it!

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  10. I'm sorry. This sucks. I hope you find a new house that you'll grow to love.

    (I thought you were going to say goodbye to blogging. That won't happen, right?)

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  11. My mom always said (highly cliched I know): You'd be surprised what you can do when you have to. Not perfect english, but still true. You are just as tough as I am, you will find some place wonderful, I'm sure of it.
    On a completely different note: We have internet in the apartment again so, consider me a regular reader again! : )

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  12. I am in love with these photos and I missed you! I have been terrible, horrible, awful and shitty about reading and/or writing blogs. I am stuck in a Facebook haze. Please find me there at Stacie Alotoflayers so we can catch up.

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