Separation
Even with all of the planning and anticipation, seeing the “for sale” sign on the front lawn makes it all so real. We’ve known for months that this moment would eventually arrive; the moment when we would be opening our home to strangers. Strangers whom we hope will fall in love with our house.
For several years, this house has seemed cramped. A one child family when we found our first home nearly nine years ago, it didn’t take long for us to outgrow it. This house has survived two pregnancies, numerous birthday parties, and countless playdates. We’ve mourned some of our most profound losses here and celebrated some of our most thrilling moments.
In the days leading up to MamaBear’s death, the separation of her soul from its earthly husk was visible to those who were closely watching. Similarly, our little home has been stripped of much of the outer trappings that made this house look like our home. As if the soul of Beit Frummie is preparing to separate from the physical structure that has guarded and sustained it these several years.
It is time…
May “the soul of Beit Frummie” find a wonderful house to make its home.
Amen.
May the home provide comfort to its new owners (who should come speedily and in our day), even as you have ease finding and settling into a new home.
Beautiful, poignant post.
Keyn y’hi ratzon. To all of it!
And thanks.
Transitions are hard. I know you’ll miss your old house, but the “home” is what you take with you.
So very true.
{{sigh…}}
After reading this I don’t know whether to wish you a speedy sale or not? Either way, wishing you a smooth and happy transition.
Thanks, Jackie.