Gone, Baby, Gone

Relief is coursing through my body.  It's gone.  Thank goodness it's gone.  It's been such a weight on our shoulders, and now it's finally gone.  Our beautiful home in Richmond, VA has been on the market for more than 8 months.  Yesterday it sold.  Closed.  Gone.  I can't even begin to express how good it feels.  

The saga of this home is so sad.  It was our dream home.  An incredible 1880's Queen Anne Victorian.  My husband and I love old homes.  And this was it.  A beautiful wrap around porch.  Turrets.  Everything was original; from the floors to the tile in the fireplaces.  The slate roof was original.  And that's what did it too us.  Caring for the slate roof of an incredibly old house is challenging at the best of times.  Caring for this house took everything out of us.  Selling it just about ripped our hearts out.  

Fast forward to January.  We're transferring to Atlanta, and the economy is tanking, and we need to sell our home.  The panic that set in was horrific.  We laid awake for so many nights worrying about how we were going to deal with selling this monstrosity.  My husband went ahead and moved, leaving the me, the girls, the dog and the cats to sell the house.  Three months of pure loneliness, interrupted by weekends of pure bliss.   Still no movement on the house.  Finally I couldn't stand it any longer and moved to Atlanta.  Still no movement on the house.  

I should mention that there was no air conditioning in the 1880s.  Our house was never retrofitted.  It would be sacrilege to tear apart the house to add the ductwork necessary for central air.  In Richmond, in the summer, it could be upwards of 90 degrees in the downstairs of the house.  Someone would be crazy to buy it.  We were crazy to buy it.  (I did manage to spend on very pregnant summer in that house though.  So if I can do it, pregnant no less, anyone can do it.)  

Well, months later, we finally got an offer.  It was lousy, and the seller wanted too much.  But I don't think we really cared.  We just needed it to be gone.  At this point, we can barely bring ourselves to look at even a photo of the house.  I know we're lucky.  There are so many people who can't sell their houses now.  Who have to just let it go. 

Now we can start to rebuild.  We've cut ties with Richmond.  We never have to look back.  It's over.  Last night we cracked a bottle of wine that we bought in Italy on our Honeymoon.  We toasted our new beginning.  The relief is overwhelming.  Not quite as overwhelming as the dread and anxiety that we felt while it was on the market.  But that's OK.  It's finally over!