We listed our home for sale on Super Bowl Sunday. The two weeks leading up to our house going live on the market was a flurry of cleaning, house projects (by Adam), packing and general declutter madness. When we first looked on Zillow and saw our house listed for sale we were giddy. All the hard work had paid off and our house looked beautiful. Why wouldn’t someone want to buy it? Looking it over, suddenly I didn’t want to leave it.
Since we listed the house I’ve been filled with so many mixed emotions. That first afternoon we squealed as requests for showings rolled through, and on Monday we racked up a grand total of 9 showings for the house in the first 24 hours it was listed. We were both floored with excitement, and a little terrified at the logistics of it all. Making sure to remove the dogs from the house for each showing, heading off to weird locations for dinner with Nellie while strangers wander our home.
Yesterday we had our first showing and wasted our hour with Nellie introducing her to the terrible lovely that is Chick Fil-A. As we drove home we rounded the corner and found the agent and potential buyer were still in our home. We creeped by the house to see these strangers standing in our living room. Judging our things, our home, our life.
We parked a few houses down and sat in the dark, watching and waiting and I couldn’t help but feel absolutely anxious and a little sick to my stomach. Who were these people in my home? Why did they deserve to make memories here? What would they do with my yard? Would they love the easy access to the forest preserve as we had? Would they teach their kids to fish in the pond as we had planned to do with Nellie? Would they grow vegetables in my garden boxes and appreciate Adam’s hard work? Would they be kind and wonderful to our amazing neighbors?
Who would be the ones to step in where we left and begin a life in a place that bad been our home for the last three years? The home where I decorated my daughter’s nursery, where I raised my baby.
Someone else will eventually buy our home and make it theirs. They’ll make their changes, talk trash about our decisions, maybe bring their own baby home through the same front door. But the idea of walking away from this home has suddenly left me so nostalgic. I know this too shall pass, and that eventually I’ll be signing papers in Washington for my very own new piece of memories, but until then I suffer through the reality of this chapter ending.
Of saying goodbye yet again to a home we made.