For Sale.

Look, People, I get it. I really do. Well, I think I do at least.

I get that we all die. I mean, that’s a guaranteed certainty, right? And taxes. Speaking of, gotta get on that.

I’m totally cool with Gpa’s passing. Seriously, I am. I mean, yeah, totally sucks, but we had a damn good run together and I feel him everyday with me.

What I’m not cool with?

This GD “For Sale” sign in the yard. Omg, if I didn’t almost continue right into the damn yard and run the thing over. That’s how shocked I was when I saw it — so shocked that there’s tire track marks in the yard. Yeah, I wasn’t kidding about almost running the sign over.

Now I’m praying to the For Sale Sign Gods. I’m hoping there’s a God assigned to everything, like the Greeks, but way more detailed. If that’s possible. Not like I’d be able to keep that many Gods straight, but I’d try and then just end up adding -eus onto every normal name, because that makes any normal name sound way more … God worthy.

So the Sign Gods better get on their shit and erase some tire track marks prior to Friday when Maman arrives. I think that’s plenty of time, right. 48 hours? Yeah, plenty.

Also plenty of time for me to get my shit together and get a freaking grip. It just … People … just … hit me hard, that GD sign.

I felt doubled over, that tight deep-seated knot in my solar plexus. Everything in me wanted to jump out of the car, get the GD sign and proceed to the nearest dumpster.

I knew the house was on the market, that wasn’t a surprise … and honestly, I wasn’t ready for this reaction. We’ve all known it’s coming to this.

But. Still! Maybe I should just leave it at : I’m a Taurus! As though that is all the explanation necessary. But in a way, it is. Change isn’t something we sail easily into. I more go kicking and screaming, à la toddler tantrum. When it comes to these sorts of changes.

Oddly, in other ways, change is quite natural for me. It’s anything where I have deep ties and memories that causes the death grip of what’s always been, to let go for what is to be.

And. I’m biased. I’m too prejudiced about this house. Too attached. Too much love and memories there.

I actually told Maman to tell the realtor that if someone was indicating purchasing interest, I needed to meet them. Approve of whomever is going to buy this house.

Yes, she did think I was nuts. I just want someone who loves it as much as I do, who appreciates the built in dressing table in the master bedroom where I’d sit as a little girl and do my dolls’ hair.

Someone who feels the thrill and adventure of the cedar lined closets that twist and turn in the entire upstairs. Those closets my brothers and cousins and I would play hide and seek in.

And those stairs … who will know, who will ever be able to imagine that those stairs aren’t just stairs? They are an entire defining moment of my childhood — where I learned to tie my shoes {second step, on the way up} on a summer afternoon with Maman.

I could go on but I’ll spare you and any further judgements on my sanity.

I know, People, I’m way too sentimental. I wish I wasn’t. But it’s also what makes me me and I wouldn’t change this breadth of depth when it comes to feeling. Although I do wish it were easier to tone down somewhat.

It’s just that that house is so much more than just a house. But aren’t they all? All of our homes being something much more important. They are guardians of our souls, in a way, I think.

Our safe haven. Our retreat of where we are allowed to be. The place that sees us in our best and worst.

I never imagined driving and walking by Gpa’s, without being able to go in. Without it being ours.

But I need to think … of the new family who will {hopefully} lovingly care for and make this their home.

Who I will one day ring the doorbell and say how beautiful the yard where I first learned how to hit a wiffle ball in looks, how good it is to see my Grandparent’s home so cared for.

The continuation of a new generation. The cycle and the circle, right, People?

Still don’t like that GD sign, though.

 

 

 

 

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