"I Hate to See Us Part Old Friend"

Mara here:

Last week's piece was inspired by a Frank Sinatra song. This week's is inspired by Stephen Sondheim. You are probably familiar with his work, either on West Side Story or Sweeney Todd. One of my favorite musicals written by Sondheim is Into the Woods.  

Into the Woods is a show (recently made into a movie with Meryl Streep) that combines several fairytales into one made-up story. It has familiar characters including: Little Red Riding-Hood, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, and Jack from Jack and the Beanstalk.

The show mimics a traditional fairytale, with the first act ending with "happily ever after." However, the second act looks at what the stories might look like after "happily ever after." What happens after what you've dreamed of comes true?

The song I referred to in the title of this piece is sung by Jack, as he leads his faithful old cow to the marketplace to sell so he'll have money to buy food for his mother. He feels guilty for betraying the cow because it's been his loving companion.

And this is how I'm feeling about our house.

Most readers of this blog know I am in the process of moving. After 15 years, we're packing everything up and saying goodbye to our little house. And I feel a bit like Jack, leading his old trusting friend to sell to strangers.

The process of buying and selling real estate is complicated. Much like the woods in Into the Woods, it's a scary journey with twists and turns and hidden dangers. The sale or purchase of a house can easily fall apart any moment during the process. So you work and work, not knowing if you have sold your current house, or purchased your new house until, all of a sudden, one day—the deal is done.

Then, for most people, you have a relatively short period of time to pack up all your things and move. There's not a lot of time for reflection. During the selling and buying process you know the deal might fall through. So you leave room for uncertainty in case it doesn't work out the way you are hoping.

For us, it was only three days ago that we knew 100% that we were moving. It's not until the loans fund and escrow closes that a house sale is truly final. (Escrow is the time when, during the inspections and negotiations, all sale documents and funds are controlled by a third party intermediary.)

All of sudden, we went from trying not to get our hopes up too high in case something happened during escrow, to scrambling to make all the arrangements involved with moving.

Now that everything is settled, I am able to truly reflect on what this house has meant to me and what it means to be leaving.

Our house, which has been our faithful home for all these years has been sold. Strangers will be moving in. And I'm finding it very hard to say goodbye. 

It's hard for me to think about never returning to our current house.

I'm excited about our new place, but there's no way for me not to think back on all the wonderful memories we've had in this house. Our daughter grew up here. We adopted our pets while living here. When we moved in, we did a bunch of renovations to the house—added hardwood floors, painted all the rooms, added crown moldings, put up new blinds...we made it our home.

And in a week, a new family will be living in it.

I'm telling myself all the things that I know I should be thinking. I'm reminding myself that we will be happy in our new home. I'm reminding myself of the things that have always bugged me about our current house. I'm thinking about how it will be nice to live in a different area.

And I'm trying to allow myself to feel sad. Change is hard. And thinking about change is even harder. Like Jack leading his cow to an unknown future, I feel uneasy not knowing what is in store for the future of our little house. And while it seems likely we will be happy in our new home, there's a level of uncertainty that is unsettling.

But I know all the things that are truly important—my husband, my daughter, and my pets—are moving with me. Our new house, that will be empty when we move, will quickly be filled with our things. And the memories of our old house that are haunting me right now will become less painful as we make new memories in our new house.

However, I will always think of our little house as an old friend—an old friend that I was sad to part with.

My parents are in a similar situation, planning in the near future to move out of their house of over thirty-five years. So I asked my mom about how she's feeling about moving:

How have you handled the inevitable sadness of leaving a place you've lived in for so many years?

It's very strange, Mara, because reading about your sadness and about the memories you'll have of the house where you raised Malia brought tears to my eyes. I feel as if I understand how you feel. And yet, I don't feel the same sadness about moving from this house.

It's particularly odd that I feel this way since we've lived here more than twice as long as you've lived in your house.

Perhaps it's because your special memories are still so fresh. After all, Malia is still living with you and will be until the end of the summer. By contrast, you and your brother haven't lived here for a very long time! And so, many of the memories I have of all of us living here have faded. Not the special moments of course. And not the memory of you and your brother arguing over how long the other one was monopolizing the bathroom you had to share!

When I think of this house, the freshest memory for me is that this is where I was living when I got sick...and have stayed sick for the past 17 1/2 years. I love the way this house has "cared" for me during this time. I truly do. But it hasn't resulted in sadness over the thought of leaving it. 

The things I loved to do before I got sick, such as gardening and little maintenance stuff have become a burden now. I'm looking forward to living in a place where your Dad and I won't have the responsibility for upkeep, inside or out. Your Dad is already too busy taking care of me and he has an active life outside the house, which is what I want for him if he wants it. It's as simple as that.

My guess is that when the actual move date approaches (we are aiming for some time in the next year if possible), I will start to feel sad since I love this house. But right now, I'm looking forward to being relieved of the burdens that come with it.

The only thing I already feel sad about is losing my bedroom. It's very small, as you know, but has so many windows in it that it often feels like a greenroom, especially in fall, winter, and spring when the sun comes in the south and east windows. And three of the windows are floor to ceiling so I can watch birds and squirrels on the ground outside. Yes, I'll miss this incredible bedroom—my favorite ever—the bedroom from which I'm typing this right now as the sun falls on my me and my doggie.

It's amazing that we might both be moving so close in time to each other, isn't it? I'm excited for you, even if that sadness lingers for a bit, which it might.