This Old House
I'm going to miss this house. It was the one that I thought we would raise our children in. The one that we would grow old in together. The one that would be filled on the holidays with the joyous sounds of children coming home from college, missions, and with families of their own. We talked about how when the kids got older and moved away, we would still sneak out to the pool for night swimming. We planned on what to do with all the extra rooms once they were gone. My own sewing room, an office, an exercise room - the possibilities were endless. Now the dreams have ended.
I guess they actually ended a year and a half ago when Neil lost his job and we watched our savings slowly drain away. When we realized we couldn't afford to live here so stopped making payments altogether. When we put the house on the market first at regular price, then as a short-sale. The past year has been hard. With the acceptance that we would eventually have to move, I pulled back emotionally from friends and acquaintances. Why strive to form bonds when they would be severed in the end anyway? I've moved enough in my life to know that nobody really has the time or energy to make a friendship last regardless of best intentions.
And the process has dragged on. It would have been so easy to walk away a year ago. There was no positive attachment to the ward as a whole. The little kids were still young enough that no lasting bonds had been made either at school or at church. The older kids had been through previous moves so another wouldn't be a big deal. We've now had three offers on the house. The first two took four months each time for the bank to get close to a decision. The first buyer walked before we could get the bank to agree. The second buyer walked two days before receiving the approval letter from the bank. This time it's an investor who has actually been wanting the house all along. We've been told by bank representatives that this time it should go quicker.
I'll be relieved really when it's over. And I am past the point of caring whether the bank accepts the offer or just goes through with the foreclosure. Yes, I would prefer the short-sale because it does look better on the credit ratings, but given the recent economic downfall nationwide, it's not like many people have stellar credit anymore anyway. I just want to be done so that I can unpack boxes and get on with the business of living. But it is still hard. There is a part of me that really would like to be able to save this house. I know it's a financial impossibility. I also know that Neil wants to be done altogether for a number of reasons. I respect that, but I still can't help but hold on to a few of the dreams. The ones where I have a spare room to have grandkids stay the weekend or a devastated child get back on his or her feet. The ones about night swimming in the pool when I'm 80. The sewing room and the ever allusive dream of being organized. The dream of owning a home that truly is home.
I guess they actually ended a year and a half ago when Neil lost his job and we watched our savings slowly drain away. When we realized we couldn't afford to live here so stopped making payments altogether. When we put the house on the market first at regular price, then as a short-sale. The past year has been hard. With the acceptance that we would eventually have to move, I pulled back emotionally from friends and acquaintances. Why strive to form bonds when they would be severed in the end anyway? I've moved enough in my life to know that nobody really has the time or energy to make a friendship last regardless of best intentions.
And the process has dragged on. It would have been so easy to walk away a year ago. There was no positive attachment to the ward as a whole. The little kids were still young enough that no lasting bonds had been made either at school or at church. The older kids had been through previous moves so another wouldn't be a big deal. We've now had three offers on the house. The first two took four months each time for the bank to get close to a decision. The first buyer walked before we could get the bank to agree. The second buyer walked two days before receiving the approval letter from the bank. This time it's an investor who has actually been wanting the house all along. We've been told by bank representatives that this time it should go quicker.
I'll be relieved really when it's over. And I am past the point of caring whether the bank accepts the offer or just goes through with the foreclosure. Yes, I would prefer the short-sale because it does look better on the credit ratings, but given the recent economic downfall nationwide, it's not like many people have stellar credit anymore anyway. I just want to be done so that I can unpack boxes and get on with the business of living. But it is still hard. There is a part of me that really would like to be able to save this house. I know it's a financial impossibility. I also know that Neil wants to be done altogether for a number of reasons. I respect that, but I still can't help but hold on to a few of the dreams. The ones where I have a spare room to have grandkids stay the weekend or a devastated child get back on his or her feet. The ones about night swimming in the pool when I'm 80. The sewing room and the ever allusive dream of being organized. The dream of owning a home that truly is home.
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((HUGS))