In Search of a New Home
I was just trying to figure out how many places I have lived. If I count college apartments, and airline crew crash pads I think I have lived in 27 different places throughout my life. That’s a lot, isn’t it? I’ll bet it’s more than average, but not more than the record.
During this time of vagabonding the world, there has been one constant: my family home, owned by my parents and then my siblings and me for over 54 years. I now stand on the precipice of saying goodbye to this one constant, the process is full steam ahead and the coming month will bring All of the Lasts and Much Processing, filled with Emotions I Cannot Yet Think About. Selling our family home- “747, like the big airplane,” my dad always said when giving the address- has not been a slow decision or process. Circumstances have made so it’s taken years to get to this point. The final phase began in August, when we put the house on the market. Since, it has been a true rollercoaster ride, including the tragic death of our realtor, an incredible man, a beloved father, grandfather and friend, whose loss leaves a hole in many places. The marketing of our home was taken on by one of his colleagues, and we have been in great hands. When weirdoes or low-ballers came a knocking- as they sometimes do when a unique property is for sale- she helped us help them go away. Finally we found, or better- serendipity engaged and found for 747, a best-case-scenario family to whom we will hand the baton of stewarding a 140 year old home. Hopefully later I can share more about them, about the continuing story of our family’s beloved painted lady victorian that will continue in the capable hands of a bright, young family. I am literally breathing a sigh of relief for us and am very happy for them.
As for finding a new home for myself and my boys- and of course young pup in tow- there are unknowns still to answer. The one certain: after June of next year we will be leaving New York City. Twenty-five-years plus in the Big Apple has taken its toll. The trash and the rats, the unreliable and expensive public transportation, the traffic surveillance, the ridiculous cost of rent, the lengths we go to to find value in groceries, the mediocre food and poor service in restaurants, the near impossibility of finding good medical care… all of this and more has worn us down. If we were wealthy, things might be different. New York City is a gorgeous place for the wealthy, with no end to two million dollar apartments, $200 theatre tickets and $20 cocktails. But that’s not for us. Our outings are seldom and more humble; we work to make ends meet and pay for the necessities of life. Any extra is spent (you might have guessed already): on travel. Which is why it might not be a surprise to know the search for our new home is taking us far, far away from the life we have known.
It’s part of the carnival ride called Life’s Grand Adventure that I have always been on. I figure I have about fifteen years before I’ll be ready to step off and chill. So why not Go Big? Why not try something different? Why not try lasso’ing the moon? Why not give our kid a reason to hate us and need therapy more than he already does?
Why not, I say? Life is short; the world is enormous. We are privileged to have choices and options and means and the ability to see that they work in our favor. It would be silly and I’d be ungrateful to sit on such fortune and let opportunity pass by. Am I worried? Yes, a bit. Am I excited? Yes, a lot. Am I crazy? Probably. But: it’s all happening. I’m not going to turn away now.
