It’s Time To Move On Now
It’s beautiful and I’m proud, but I am ready to be done.
Our house went on the market four days ago, and with one successful Open House and two additional showings later, I’m ready to move on now.
We re-did the floors, the kitchen cabinet doors, the staircase—most everything. We created the house we always wanted, and now we’re ready to leave it.
Our family is in awe over the transformation—How can you leave that stunning home? Are you sad to leave it? Don’t you want to stay now?
Most everyone seems to ignore the fact that, no matter how beautiful our house turned out to be, being a prisoner inside it voids most of its charm.
Maybe you’ll grow out of it. Maybe you can stay.
Maybe you can come back.
But what if I don’t want to.
It’s been an interesting journey so far.
One where I’ve learned a lot about myself, about the people around me, and about the people I love.
Our house went up for sale on Friday, March 9th, and the first Open House was on Sunday. Our realtor said it was one of the best turn-outs she’s had, and as of Tuesday morning we’ve had two additional showings.
Some recent research reveals that we can have around fifteen more “get your house clean and get out” viewings before an offer comes in.
Needless to say, the house has been a full-time job.
I know our house intimately now, and we’re proud to have made such a good (lucky) choice when we bought it in 2012.
At this point, I can say that I fully understand home ownership. And I can say with certainty that there’s no such thing as a “forever home”—a forever anything, for that matter.
When we bought our house, we planned on being here “forever”.
It was nice, more than enough space for our family of four (now five), and it was in a fantastic school system.
We were healthy and relatively happy when we bought it. At least, that’s what we thought.
Then about two years later I started getting sick.
Three years later I was in constant abdominal pain.
Almost four years later, I could no longer handle the sunlight—my skin would flare up and bubble immediately upon exposure to sunlight and heat. It felt like I was trying to hug a bonfire.
With too long of exposure, I earn permanent red scarring—like blood vessels explode and suspend at the surface.
By the fourth year, I could no longer walk or go anywhere or do anything.
After numerous doctors and procedures and tests, we discovered that it was Celiac Disease—the auto-immune disease triggered by gluten (wheat, barley, rye).
Within a few days of removing gluten I was up and walking around again.
It’ll be a year in June since the diagnosis, but my skin seems to be getting worse.
Maybe it will get better. Maybe it won’t.
Regardless, it’s time for us to move on.
Our house has treated us well for nearly six years. It’s time for it to make another family happy now.