Thursday, April 25, 2013

The Showing

We met the listing agent at the house because our home search was so new our agent hadn't been able to catch up to us yet. She was lovely and the feel of the neighborhood was wonderful: relaxed, established, kid friendly but also classic enough for an empty nest. She led us into the house and on our first lap around the downstairs we were numb. Just in shock. The wallpaper was peeling off the walls. The shag carpet hadn't been cleaned in ages. The kitchen was rough, to put it gently. We nodded encouragingly as she led us from room to room, but I'm sure our faces were terrified. The upstairs got a cursory glance and then the guys had had enough.

The mysterious kitchen! It has issues, but it's got a few things going for it. 

Yeah, we have blue lightbulbs over the fireplace. Wait, do you not? 

Our very own red room of pain. 

The realtor turned to me and asked, "So what do you think?" My heart was breaking as I told her "It's so much work for the money." (Hearing the direction of the conversation the guys headed outside to play while I 'wrapped it up'.) The realtor asked me what I would do to update the house, and I was off. I went from room to room with a vision in mind. I could see it: the hardwoods under the carpet, the sparkling glass under the grime, the home that has sheltered and nurtured generations of families full of life instead of neglected and vacant. I told her that for a lower price I would take it in a heartbeat. We had a conversation about the listing price and she led us to think that there might be some room to negotiate, but it seemed unlikely that we would be able to bring it down to a place where we could afford renovations. Renovations to which we were philosophically opposed, at the time.

I fell. I fell hard. The guys were getting irritated that I wasn't coming out to play. The Mr. shook his head at me and mouthed 'No', as if I was a crazy person. But I didn't want to leave. I wanted to watch them run and play tag in the trees, to sit and relax on the front steps. I got in the car, but I left my heart behind.

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