Back on April 12, 2013…Wait a second, that’s incorrect. Allow me to begin again.
Back on April 11, 2013, I wrote an essay about buying a house. Here is what I wrote:
“Why do you want to buy a house?” The question seems so simple, but I still have trouble answering it in a way that will make my friend understand. Her eyes probe, wondering why a woman in her late fifties would want the obligations of home ownership. “Apartment living is safe,” she says, “no worries. If the roof leaks, call the landlord. No hot water, pick up the phone.”
I search for the magical words; the ones that, when I speak them, she’ll have that ah-ha moment—nod, and smile, finally getting my reasons.
“It will be mine,” I offer. Foolish, I know. Words that seemed so logical in my brain now hang empty in the air. I tried again, “I want a place where I can exhale. I want to be home.”
She still didn’t get it.
In bed that night I thought about her question. In fact, that’s all I seem to be thinking about since the house search began six months ago. Why am I trying to buy a house? I’m a single mother, for goodness sake! And old!!
I mentally traced back over the past four years.
2009 brought my second divorce and the loss of my job. Next came foreclosure and bankruptcy. With trashed credit and no place to live, I was lucky to get a small apartment, complete with spiders the size of Texas, and overhead neighbors who think jumping up and down with their dinosaur-sized dog at two in the morning was a fun time.
I worked two jobs, and scrimped and pinched pennies so tightly they squeaked. Eventually, I clawed my way back to standing and pushed forward, never losing sight of my dream—a home of my own.
Thanks to an FHA loan, home ownership became a possibility in late 2012. And even though my family and friends thought I was crazy for wanting to take on the responsibility, the search began. I had a system: view the on-line listings, visit Google maps for an aerial view, drive-by, then call my agent. I’m not implying it was easy. Most of the homes in my price range had one thing in common—bring your demolition crew! After months of looking, I started getting worried my dream might never come to fruition when houses I wouldn’t sell my ex-husband looked good.
“Do I really need heat?” I asked myself on more than one occasion.
But then it happened. Eight hundred square feet smack on the Concord River. Surrounded by trees, land for a garden, even a fenced-in yard for the dogs. I parked my car, stood in the yard, and knew I was home. I made an offer, and dreamed. I’ll buy a canoe and I’ll put a rocking chair by the retaining wall.
This isn’t my first rodeo. I know the house won’t be mine until the last signature is in place, the deed is filed, and the keys are in my hands. It will happen though. Tomorrow’s the day.
And when I stand on the deck, looking at the river and listening to the birds, I’ll spread my arms and exhale.
I’ll finally be home.
April 11th, 2013
On that day, seven years (OMG, seven years!!) ago, Sparky and I arrived at the house with a hot Dunkin Donuts coffee in one hand (My hand, not his.), along with my new keys and a flag in the other hand. (Again, my hand, not his.) Sparky ran to check out the river and I posted the flag for all to see. I was finally home.
This was the view from my little corner of the Concord River. Not bad for an elderly lady buying a house after going through bankruptcy and foreclosure. Not bad at all.
Fast forward to now, seven years (WTF!) later and my mind is reeling at how quickly time seems to have passed. Truly. Seven years!!!!
Anyway, not much has happened in those seven years, (HA!) but let’s not travel down that rabbit hole. Let’s talk about happy things, like 2020’s biggest and brightest, pinkest supermoon rising over my river.
Or, that the American goldfinches are molting into their breeding colors.
Orrrrr, the return of my Great Blue heron. Now, that is very cool.
Each morning the Mallard hen of the mating pair that chose my property as their home let’s the entire town of Billerica know she’s on the case, protecting her nesting territory.
When she’s not quacking, she’s either eating or chilling with the drake.
Along with my ducks, a pair of Canadian geese have decided my yard is home.
The male is one nasty dude, let me tell you. Even Harlee is afraid of him.
If I ignore 2020, I can truthfully write the past seven years have been good to me. Actually, even with all that’s happened over the past five months (I’m counting November, when Dyan passed.), I’m blessed. That’s more than a lot of people can say at this time in the world. So, thank you, Goddess.
Oh, before I leave you, I have one announcement to make. Ready?
HERE THEY COME! The Ruby-throated hummingbirds are on their way. Yipee!
Check out this link for updates on their travels. https://www.hummingbirdcentral.com/hummingbird-migration-spring-2020-map.htm
While you’re waiting for them to arrive, relax with my newest YouTube video, then get your hummingbird feeders washed and filled. They’ll be here soon.
That’s it. That’s all I have for you right now. Thank you for sticking with me for the past seven years.
Stay safe and remember, don’t touch your face.
Blessed be :}
Mi manchi, mio immortale.