It's been an exhausting and long week but I finally have some energy and time to write what's on my mind today. I do think about this blog a lot. If I can't fall asleep at night or if my mind wanders at work for a few minutes, I think about what matters enough at that moment for me to share.
Tonight, I'm thinking about my folks. Mom and Dad have their birthdays in January and February. Dad just turned 80; Mom is turning 79. They live in a large home on two acres of land. A home that was and is their dream home. Took them every dime they had to buy the land in what was then "the boonies" and build a house in a town where they felt better about the environment and the educational system - all for their kids, not themselves. That was in 1972.
Their house has become part of the family, much like a relative or a pet. Dad always did everything himself. From painting, to major renovations, to landscaping (the property looked like wilderness to this kid from the city and I could not picture what a house would even look like sitting in those tall pines). But they had a vision. Now, their favorite part of the house is the screened-in porch they built in the early 1980s. It looks out over their quiet property and hosts many a late-night Sox game. Garrison Keillor's voice and timpani notes from the Boston Pops hang in the breeze on warm summer nights.
They'll be heartbroken when the day comes that the house becomes too much for them. They know that day's coming. So do I. No place else will ever be home to them. No matter how big the porch.
I told Mom tonight that, although they have a big decision to make, this is a great problem to have. They are so lucky to have a nice home to sell which will keep them financially sound for the rest of their lives. They're lucky to have the luxury of deciding instead of having the decision made for them due to health issues. They're lucky that they don't absolutely have to sell in a buyer's market - they can sit on it for a while and wait for the market to turn around.
Life is all about options. And, as long as you can celebrate the fact that you've still got some, then problems turn into solutions.
Still and all, I sure will miss that porch.
That day has come and gone. They'll never sell. Not until one of them passes. I've moved so many times that I don't know what it's like to be that attached to a house. I doubt we are in our forever house now. But it seems clear to me that as long as they can afford to hire people (and that list will grow), they will stay.
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