(Yes, the girls are home. Yes, the girls had fun. Yes, there will be blogging about the trip when the road stops rushing by.)
Someone new found my blog while I was out with the girls. She read the “what is a house” post and made a very nice comment, and I remembered that I haven’t finished the story.
We sold the house to the guy who made the offer, the first-and-only-showing guy. Only we didn’t close on June 30. As often happens, things didn’t go quite as smoothly with the sale of his house as had been anticipated, so closing was delayed until July 20. Three extra weeks of nail-chewing.
Within the first week, all of the remaining landscaping, with the exception of two trees, one hydrangea bush, and a few hostas, was gone.
The old basement door and front door were replaced.
The porch and deck have since been rebuilt.
He’s started a retaining wall at the end of the driveway.
Everything is very pretty now, as opposed to the remaining shabbiness we left behind.
I still drive through the neighborhood on a fairly regular basis, picking up and delivering kids for riding lessons and church.
In one way, I feel like I’m looking at Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree, after Linus says, “All it needed was a little love.”, wraps his blanket around it, and proceeds to decorate it with the lights from Snoopy’s doghouse.
And I feel guilty about how I treated my friend, the house.
(Darned tears…makes it hard to see the computer.)
But then, I remembered.
The new owner of my friend, the house, had to sell his old friend, his house, because of a divorce. I don’t know if he has children or not, but suspect that may be the case because of his desire to find a house with three bedrooms in the same area. His old house was only a mile away, in the opposite direction from the house we live in now.
He may very well be hurting, badly, separated from the children he loves. So, he loves the house instead.
And we loved it too. It might not have showed as much on the outside as it should have. But it was there, on the inside.
And we brought it here.