Self-portrait by my four-year old
I have a feeling that I am mentally holding on to my home. I'm telling myself that more than anything I want to avail myself of this house so that we can move on with our lives and continue to plan for the next part. And when jerk-face backed out yesterday at the eleventh hour I just sobbed. I wanted this thing over. I want the kids to have their friends over again. And I am so sick of making the beds every morning and wiping down the bathroom and doing the dishes on the off chance that someone will want to show the house. But I know there's a part of me that's anxious about where we'll live next. And another part of me that wants to bring the new baby home to this house just like the others.
The other interesting thing is that every time I hear that someone thought the house was darling but doesn't want to live across from a school or in a neighborhood that's so "diverse" I get all mama bear over the house. Like, how dare you talk to my house that way and not value the same things that I value. It must all be part of the process of letting go. A home can be so much more than a place to live and there's obviously a lot more wrapped up in this house than I ever knew. Not to mention all of the uncertainty represented by leaving our home. I don't think we're getting cold feet but this move is forcing us to examine our own ideas about home and where it is and what it means and how do we find it again. I might try clicking my heels.