“I just feel so guilty,” I’ve said, a lot, over the last two years.
“The house doesn’t know we’re leaving,” Cliff always answers.
“Yes. It does. The house remembers all the years.”
I’m the one who pushed us to move. It was time to clean out, and the house and yard are large and not easy to manage. And I love our new house. Life is simpler here in so many ways. But for the longest time, I felt guilty about leaving the old one. Surely the house feels our betrayal.
Just like in my beloved childhood book, Rabbit Hill, new folks are coming!
Thanks to our realtor Meighan Carmichael, and her sharp eyes and energy, the house was spruced up. Really spruced up. Painted. Repaired. Cleaned.
It sold the third day on the market. Wow. Cliff and I were shocked and delighted. And best of all, the new folks promise to love the house as we have.
I bet my old house does remember all the years, but most of all, I hope it loves the years to come.
Thank you to my friend Donna Warshaw, who took this photo at our final Christmas parade gathering in December. Of all the house photos taken over the years, this is my favorite because it shows such depth and because of the light in the window. That light shines in the room where I wrote many of my published books.
I’ve archived all of my downsizing posts here, and I’ve got a few more to come. If any of you have a downsizing story you’d like to tell, I’d love to feature you on Friend for the Ride.