We had our home, well, and septic inspections today. Before I get to the emotional part, let’s get to the gross part. The septic tank. YUCK! Who flushes tampons? Seriously!?!?!?! The tank failed inspection so they need to pump and snake the line. Done.
Alright, so we arrived at the house and the owners were on the back deck and I come flying out the door with my hands in the air yelling, “Man, I love this house! I just freaking love it!” Then I saw the owners and said, “Oh. Don’t mind me I’ve had waaaaaay too much coffee this morning.”
My agent laughed, and the husband looked at his wife and said, “Oh, if it isn’t you 30 years ago.” Then Matt rolled his eyes and the husband nodded. Already, we are off to a good start.
The owners were very happy to meet us. We chatted about motorcycles and shelves and garden stuff and neighbors and cats when the topic turned to the pet cemetery and I asked her, “Most importantly, what do you want to do with the cemetery? If you want to take it with you, the headstones I mean, I understand, but I want you to know that if you leave it we will care for it.
“I would really like to leave it here. This was their home. I don’t want to take them or their headstones from it.”
I smiled and said, “Good, and please know that we will care for it as though the pets there were our own. We have kitties, too, and it’s nice to know they will have a safe place to rest.”
Then the wife started looking around, and she put her hands up to her mouth, broke down, and said, “I’m sorry, I have to go. I need to go see a movie. I can’t be here right now,” and, just like that, they vanished.
And my heart broke all over the place for this woman, and I wished so deeply that I could have given her a hug and cried with her! And I felt so terrible that I had gotten so overly poetic about the damn pet cemetery I brought the woman to tears.
The owners built this house, cared for, and loved it. It shows in every nook and cranny, inside and out. They raised their family in it, their grandchildren. They had weddings and countless parties and celebrations. I remember saying to my agent, “I can’t imagine ever leaving here,” and I know this woman is feeling the same thing.
She and I are kindred spirits in a way. Eclectic, fiery, colorful, well-read, and just a bit demanding. Knowing this, I said to the seller agent, “I know this is hard for them. It will be hard for me in 30 years as well. Please let them know that while they built this house for themselves, they also built it for us. We were meant to be here.”
The agent said back to me, “She said that to me, and that’s what’s hardest for this woman. Seeing herself and her husband at your age, moving into this house and making it a home for 30 years. She knows it’s right. It’s just hard to say goodbye.”
So we carried on with our inspections and as we drove away I felt wonderful and sad all at the same time. I found myself thinking that I would like to send the owners a Christmas card via their agent. Just a little something to show we care, and I would like them to know that if they ever find themselves back up north and want to stop by, I will gladly have a cup of coffee out on the deck with them.
I feel like all of the waiting, the frustration, the patience (I do have an iota, you know), and the praying is coming down to this. When I got home, I was greeted by our official good faith estimate. I held it, blinking at the P&I, thinking, “This can’t be real. I can’t believe this is happening,” and then I started crying.
I cried so hard I had to sit down in the middle of the kitchen floor because I couldn’t breathe. This is finding someone to spend the rest of your life with. This is making dreams come beyond true. This is happily ever after.
Yeah, it’s been an emotional day.