Last fall Munchkin and I flew to MA and drove cross country with my mom to move her out here Washington. She’s been living with us while her house has sat vacant, waiting for a buyer. She’s had to drop the price of the house, a lot. It’s much lower than she wanted but after several months she has a buyer. She’s been patiently waiting for closing day so she no longer has to worry about and pay for the house.
Enter the day before the closing. The Realtor went by the house to the let the water company in so they could get a final reading. She couldn’t park in the driveway because it hadn’t been cleared of all the snow they’ve gotten. She noticed that there were some ruts in the driveway. When she entered the house, she noticed that the fridge, washer and dryer were missing. She texted mom and asked her if she sold them; mom replied No. The house had been broken into! In addition to the appliances being stolen, they also stole copper piping from the basement. They left the water on and it’s been gushing onto the floor ever since they took it. For the first time in 30 years we were thankful that the floor of the basement is dirt. The water just seeped into the ground with no damage. Well, the only damage is the $2000+ water bill my mom had to pay.
We were afraid that the buyer would want to delay the closing but thankfully he didn’t. The close went through the next day and my Mom is no longer a homeowner. Which means I no longer have any ties to Massachusetts. I have friends there and I do have an Uncle and some cousins but they don’t talk to us anymore. It’s weird to think that I don’t have a reason to return. I want to bring Munchkin someday so she can see where her mom grew up. I want to show her where I went to school and the places I used to go. I want to show her Boston and the rich history that’s there.
I’m handling the sale better than I thought I would. It really hasn’t bothered me. I think it’s because I said goodbye to the house in August. I walked the house and took in the details; the wallpaper in my old bedroom that four year old me picked out, the banister with the ornate piece at the bottom, the old original hardwood floors, the tall ceiling with the crown molding. I walked the house while my mom and baby slept. I cried in those rooms, remembering the 30 years that my parents owned them and the memories we made in them. I grew up in that house, dreamed in that house, left and returned to that house. My daddy died in that house (In case you’re wondering my dad is not buried in MA. He wanted to be cremated and have his ashes mixed with my mom’s. He’s currently in a little black box and is sitting next to the fireplace. Munchkin likes to go over and sit by/on him. Sometimes she puts her toys on top of the box and we tell her she’s playing with Papa. My daddy would have like that.)
Mom is handling the sale of the house pretty well. She’s really happy to not be paying for a place that she’s not living in. I think having it sold helps her feel like she can settle in here. There’s nothing tying her back to the east coast. It’s been so freeing for her to have the house sold. She can move on now. She’s ready. We’re ready too.