Our home is for sale, and we had two different lookers take the tour today. They both seemed to really like the place, and it felt great to show it off. But it’s such a bittersweet experience, selling a home. Especially one you love as much as I adore this one.
The house is small. Around 800 square feet. It forced us to simplify our lives, and it really got us in great financial shape. Coming from a life of living aboard tiny boats, I was sold before we embarked on this adventure. My wife needed convincing. I think this place has really won her over. Not just for its ability to save us money, but a recognition of how much we owned that we never needed.
I look forward to closing on the house, because I don’t want to be in Florida with something I’m responsible for so very far away. But I’ll also be sad. I might literally cry to see it empty, our stuff taken out, someone taking the key to the front door from me. It’s odd, but the home that taught me to not be too attached to things, to be able to let go and live freely, has become the thing I’m attached to the most. (Thing being the operative word. My wife, family, friends, and little mutt are in a different league.)
So here I sit, our house perfectly clean, mood music playing from the speakers embedded in the ceilings throughout the place, both hoping we get a call from one of these lookers . . . and dreading it.