We're less than two weeks from closing the sale of our house on April 25th. Almost 13 years to the day from the day we moved in. We've been wanting this for a long time, this freedom, this release from feeling like we were being held hostage in Taos, and in our house. It was home for all this time. And then we knew it was time to go, but it seemed were we not being allowed to leave. It's been frustrating, but now suddenly it feels like the gates have been flung open, and we're free to wander off in search of Whatever's Next.
I didn't really believe this was all happening until two days ago, when the soon-to-be new owner of our house came to our yard sale, looked me in the eyes, and said, "I love this house." All the logic in the world couldn't convince me it was a real deal until that moment. I wanted to trust it, but after what we went through a few months ago with buyers who backed out at the last minute, I guess I felt the need to guard against another big disappointment.
It turns out, as it always does, that the timing wasn't right then, and it's perfect now. Of course it is. Why would I doubt that? Just being human I guess. The new owners are terrific people who will fit in here perfectly. They lived in Taos a long time ago, and still have friends here, in fact right up the road from us. They also just happen to know some of our friends already, and have met some of our favorites in the last few days. I know it's silly, but I sort of feel like the house is staying in the family. Not that I feel any claim to it, but I just like knowing that people I know and like will be here. And who knows, maybe we'll get to come back and see how they've made it better, which I know they will. New life in our pretty house is the best thing we could ask for. There's a lot of love in these adobe walls.
We held an enormous moving sale over the weekend, and sold tons of stuff. Almost everything we wanted to sell, except for a few large pieces. I suppose those will go for less than I want for them, but that's ok. I mean really, if a few bucks is the cost of freedom, of lightening our physical, and as a result, our psychic load, it's not a high price to pay at all. We're spending this last bit of time in a nearly empty house, with chandeliers and camp chairs and echoes of our own voices mixed with those of the last 13 years. It's oddly calm and comforting. And I'm finally beginning to feel free again.