It's been two years today since Dad died. I've felt it particularly strongly today because I'm in Birmingham (as opposed to Napa, like last year) and with Mom. I'm driving the same streets that remind me of phone calls from that day, and long drives.
This year has been a year of decisions, wonderful ones. I haven't written here for fear of saying things we were ready to say yet, like that we're moving back to Birmingham, and that B has accepted an amazing offer with a wonderful firm. Those two decision alone were gut-wrenching, exciting, wonderful, terrible, scary, and exhilarating all at once. Add in the fact that I accepted a job at my old company and we purchased a car and we're pretty much there.
This week, I'd planned to come to Birmingham to house hunt. Then my old company called and I combined the trip with an in-office visit to touch base and pick up a laptop so I can work remotely.
B and I had been looking, in two cities, for the perfect home for months. Long before we knew our home city, we had already picked out neighborhoods, schools, and weekly watering holes that we'd love to adopt. So when it came time to visit, we pulled our top 24 and I (along with both our Moms) hit the trail, seeing house after house.
At the end of day 1, we saw a cute one, one B and I had seen online and liked, but figured it was our "reach" house: beautiful, spacious, but a little more money than we were interested in spending.
When we pulled up, I started into my monologue, telling the Moms the house specs and the price when our realtor cut me off, "there's been a price reduction." And there was-- a 10% one, which, for houses, is no small stuff.
Day two came and went. We saw more houses but nothing compared to The House we saw on Day 1, not at that price, and not on the list of things we wanted, which was, really, no small list. We weren't looking for marble and crystal, but we were looking for niche items, like work out spaces and a back deck.
So, with B's blessing, in light of the price drop, I put in an offer at 5:30pm. By 6:30 this morning, they'd countered back, reducing the price further. By 8, there were agents waiting to present other offers, so we were presented with the option: Accept now or wait and risk the seller withdrawing their counter.
By 8:30 I was in the office, unshowered and mostly frazzled, and we were under contract.
Did I mention that B hasn't seen the house?
This man has some serious faith! And he should-- he's going to love it!
I've thought about Dad a lot over the past few days, and it made me feel good to know that this was happening today. Mom and Dad were always adament about saving for exactly this (among other) reasons, so I know he'd be thrilled to know what B and I were doing. I felt this sense of peace about it that seems odd even now, but I know it's coming from somewhere outside of me, mostly because I've hardly slept this week and am pretty much spent.
I can't wait for B to get to town (tomorrow). I can't wait for him to see the house. I can't wait to show him the things I know he'll love about it, and discover things I didn't even notice that he loves.
I'm thankful today for so much-- that I loved my Dad enough to be sad and miss him still, that we may have found our "for now" dream home (we haven't closed, so I'm not calling it "ours" just yet!), that B is on his way soon (because I really miss him), that I have wonderful family that calls to check in, that we have wonderful friends (one of whom made his facebook status about Dad today and even called Mom to say he was thinking of her), and that I had top-notch support this week from all angles when things got plain exhausting.
So here, dear reader, is my pledge to you. Now that I can tell you most of my secrets (we're moving! here's where! here's why!), I'll write again. For so long I felt bound by our own indecision (and my general exhaustion), but now I'm feeling ... free. Don't worry, you don't have to read a lick of it, but it'll be here for me, to help me remember the day I really missed my Dad and bought a house without my husband seeing it. Something to tell our grandkids about for sure.