House for Sale

 Part One of this Story

It kills me to think that the couple tentatively placing a bid on our house will pull the Realtor aside to ask why the house is for sale and the Realtor will look to either side, move a bit close, and whisper in a hush hush voice, "messy divorce."

It makes me hate the Realtor.

Eight months ago, Dad moved out.  I heard the version where he wanted to move out and get on with his life, and the version where Mom just wanted him out of the house already and a few subversion of those stories, and to be honest, I'm not sure what is the truth, if there is a truth, and have given up any hope of understanding.

Mom has been living in the house on her own.  

As a couple, my parents seemed to be doing just fine financially.  Separated, they are not.  I watch them both cut down on expenses, things that they decided they don't really need.  It breaks my heart.  Mom gets her nails done less often, which is fine, she tried to color her graying roots in our bathroom, which was messy, and she switched our cable provider for a better deal, understandable.  Oh, right, and she has also decided to sell the house.

I lived on my own in three various dorms and two apartments.  I have moved the entirety of my belongings, my property, nine times.  Still, my home, the place of return no matter where my property relocates, has been the same since I was born.  Our family never moved.  Things changed within the house, Mom redid the bathrooms, cat died, new kitten made a mess, backyard deck was extended, carpets were ripped up and wood floors redone, but the house itself remained.  Dad moved out, which was strange, but house stayed the same.

My Mom told me that she is ready to sell the house.  I know what she means.  It is something she has to do and she has enough energy to proceed.  It is not so much about starting somewhere fresh and new, moving on from a past life that is no longer.  This is a valid rational, but I know that it is hardly the reason.  Financially, she cannot stay.  I know she would stay if she could, if only for the sake of her children, but she can't.  I have lived in my own apartment afforded by my monthly salary, I understand.  Still, it is hard.  It is yet another change. 

Brother was upset, I was not.  My thoughts are upset, but my heart doesn't care and I don't know why.  At first, I thought I had accepted reality.  I didn't get upset, angry or depressed, I simply accepted the fact that my house was up for sale.  Then again, how can you really differentiate acceptance from denial? 

My mind is playing tricks on me.

Heart:  I don't want to think about it.

Brain:  Don't think about it, just let it happen.  If you think about it and get upset, it's another thing to deal with.

Heart:  I'm not upset, I'm not even shocked, I knew this would happen.  It's no surprise.  No shock, no feelings, all is good.

Brain:  Logically, there is nothing I can do about it, so what is the use in letting it bother me?

Heart:  I am BROKEN.  Nothing can upset me anymore.

Maybe my heart is disconnected from reality as a way to help me cope.  Maybe my brain is being logical.  Denial sounds negative, acceptance sounds positive, but really, what is the difference?  Denial is the beginning, acceptance is the end.  I am not in denial, I am numb.  I am tired.  I am worn out.  For now, I think I am okay with saying goodbye to my house.  Then again, I said Au Revoir to my home long ago.

Two weeks later the papers were drawn up, a draft sale agreement between my parents and the new owners.  My house was sold.  

Part Three of this Story

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