My husband and I put our home of 19 years up for sale. It's one of those financial things. Although, to be honest, we haven't been happy here for about 7 years.
The "coming soon" sign is in the front yard and we're racing like mad to get ready for the Realtors to tour and then hopefully the house will appeal to multitudes of excited families that think this place is just perfect.
We loved this house back when we were younger and our daughter was little. Back when my mom lived around the corner and down the block. Back when we felt like we had all the time in the world and our house would be perfect for a family with a kid and a dog and a cat and fish and geckos and a pet rat.
We had lovely neighbors. They would pick up your mail if you were out of town and talk over the fence and ask about your mom and your grandparents. Some of them would totter to your front door any time there was gossip to make sure you were well informed. Some of them were practically like family and you loved living next door. There was a connectedness whether you were weeding yards or refinishing furniture. They could count on you to water the plants or test out baked goods. Your daughter could run over and play and you never worried about her safety in their care.
Neighbors move and sometimes they die. Daughters grow up and go on about their own lives. It's the natural progression of life but sometimes it changes how you feel about where you live. It changed how we felt about our house and our block. I stopped loving the new projects and stopped caring about all of the old ones. The little world out there on my front lawn didn't matter any longer.
The time has come for us to start over in a different neighborhood with a different house. I'm feeling hesitant but mostly happy. There will be lots of new things to know and do and experience. There is some sadness as we pack up our old house. It would have been nice to be happy here a little longer.