In all the chaos of selling this house and managing the closing date, it became clear there is not enough time to look for the next house, pack, deal with financing, etc. This real estate market is ridiculous and I cannot deal with houses that have twenty offers (not kidding) on them in the middle of moving, finishing school for the kids, getting people to camp, and working. And so, to an apartment we go.
I’m actually truly looking forward to it. It is the epitome of having to simplify – life and possessions. It feels easy to me. It borders on a mental vacation. It feels “light.”
Tomorrow a decision needs to be acted upon. An actual apartment has to be chosen. You see, there are two on hold right now. It’s a long story as to how this came about, but here we are. One of them happens to be the very same apartment complex Husband and I met in and lived in when we were first married. The other one is, well, just the other one.
Number One doesn’t entirely meet our needs, but tethered to it is history and stories and a few ghosts. Not all of the history is good, not all of the ghosts are bad, but there are stories nonetheless. Number Two meets almost all of the list of needs, but … it’s just an apartment.
I know what the logical answer is here. It’s really plain. But, there is this other one. This thought that maybe being there is another chapter of some sort? Would it extend the story started there? Would it recolor the history? I wonder what it feels like to hold hands with the ghosts. Walking into the property office brought back so many moments, people, phone calls and decisions. They were present, but not heavy.
This move is a big change for everyone. Maybe the first one is just a band-aid to help with the change. Maybe the familiarity is what is attractive, but it isn’t enough. Maybe, instead of another chapter, it’s really starting a new book.
Maybe, I just need to EXHALE ALREADY and realize it’s a stopping point for six months and not over-think things. Maybe.