I used to be known as Last Minute Linda. That moniker came in handy this week.
Wednesday, my house foreclosed, Thursday a house went on Craigslist, and 4 hours later I went on Craigslist for the first time. By 4 that day, I had an application in for this home. It was a 5 day process. The owners of the property management company met. My HR people sent a letter stating I was not a criminal. By Friday, I had keys. It’s now Sunday, and there are 11 boxes left of a 20 year life.
I’ve been moving and packing for three days. My parents were here for my son’s graduation, and they stayed and did a ton of work.
On my last visit to my old house tonight, just as I was leaving, I saw an old bathing suit. Pre-children. I locked up the house, and walked to the diving board. I jumped and let the water soothe me. Hours upon hours spent in the spa that now stands low and cold.
I cried. A different cry from last week, or even Friday, when I wailed and was alternately numb. Saturday I cried. Today once or twice and definitely when I saw the measurements of my sons’ heights. And I got out of the pool and wept. Simply wept.
In many ways the guy who bought the house and served me with a 3 day notice did me a favor. From beginning to end, this process to a new life took 5 days. My Instagram photos are on this blog. To the right. So many miracles to get to this point.
A lovely home in a darling neighborhood. Hard wood floors. Built in 1951. And the trees. They are majestic. I can’t find my running shoes, but I’m about to start mapping out new trails. New life.
Thank you to my college roommate who drove 2 hours with her husband to hang pictures. To my friend who brought boxes. To the people who welcomed us into the neighborhood. I love it here. My mother and father.
And now. Sleep. Because there is just one more run back to that town. To that house. Back to my old life.