So, I’m thinking of selling my home after 30 years.

I love my home. I love my neighborhood, and I even like my neighbors. As I survey the landscape of my life, walk into the rooms where laughter, tears, struggles, pain and glory once were commonplace, now filled with the echoes of my memories. My three children all grew up here. The doorways to their bedrooms measured with the indelible lines of growth. The closed doors filled with secrets of my daughter, her friends and their constant whispers. The WYSIWYG of my son and his friends sprawled out everywhere leaving their messy wake for my wife and me to clean up. And we loved every minute of it.

 

I’ll miss this old place.

It was a great house, where holidays were revered, birthdays celebrated and that sacred last week in November that was always us and our closest family friends. We grew up together and never missed a Thanksgiving in 20 years. But the kids are long gone, spread out throughout the country like birds scattered in the sky, starting families and memories of their own. 

 

I’ll miss this old place.

Yes, this old house is like that 64 Chevy. Strong as a horse, reliable as a golden retriever. And, as much as I hate to admit it, I think the time has come. It’s time to pack up the life-long memories, sell the snow blower, give away the lawn mower, get rid of the gardening tools and all the other stuff one needs to fix the never-ending chores of owning a home that’s a bit past its prime.

 

Starting to think about where and what to do next is a scary process indeed. Where does one go, what does one look for – and the thought of emptying this old house and moving is just plain daunting.

But in talking to some of our friends, they rave about this “new way of living.” One-floor living, maintenance-free, spacious light-filled rooms with private courtyards, master bedroom suites and guest rooms – not too close for comfort but far from ordinary. There will even be a meeting house, swimming pool and bocci ball! And the best part? The people who live there are just like us!

So, who says you can’t be adventurous!? Who says life doesn’t start (all over again) at 60?
Right-sizing might just be the fit that’s right. Who knows?

I’ll miss this old place.