Shattered Fairytale

I am writing this with a heavy heart today.  We are in the midst of selling our home and the reality of leaving and having to move somewhere else has hit me hard.  The thought of packing up and moving to a smaller townhouse that’s not in our neighborhood is making me very sad.  What’s worse, the people who are looking at our home don’t want the house, they want the land.  The house is just a nuisance they will bulldoze to make way for their million dollar McMansion.  Depressing, indeed.

I met my husband when he had just purchased this home.  At the time, his two children were living with him and we were expecting our child in a few months.  It was great to have so much space inside and out.  The yard was huge, fenced in, heavily wooded, and had a pool for the kids to enjoy.  The neighborhood was wonderful…family-friendly, with several parks and a lake within walking distance.  There was convenient access to freeways and shopping, yet quiet enough to hear the frogs croaking in the nearby pond while we slept.

After a few years, the older kids graduated high school and moved out.  My daughter was getting big enough where she could go in the backyard and run around, but I always worried about the pool.  Besides, the pool was a lot of work and no one used it except for the dogs when they needed to cool off.

Soon, the pool was filled in.  The paint on the house started to peel.  The roof started to leak.  The economy tanked.  My husband decided to abandon his recruiting career and pursue his passion of music.  The house needed to be sold.  The perfect storm of negatives and circumstances brought us to this situation.

I was in denial at first, thinking we could weather the worst economy since The Great Depression and stay in the only home my daughter has ever known.  I had pictured her growing up here, having many joyous memories and enjoying the beautiful surroundings.  I dreamed of remodeling, adding a fireplace here, a master bath there, taking advantage of the privacy and the view our large lot and trees afforded us.

But in the end, it’s not meant to be.  Since April, I’ve had to endure agent after agent traipsing strangers through our home, violating our privacy.  We have read negative review after negative review of our house.  It’s not worth anything, basically implying it’s a pile of garbage.  Well, it may be garbage to them, but it’s my home and their comments hurt.

I don’t know when this will all be over and we can move on.  What I do know is that my fairytale is gone and I have to create a new story.  Will it be as good as the fairytale?  Who knows.  Only time will tell what will happen.  In the meantime, all I can do is trudge on and know that this too shall pass.  Eventually, everything will be okay and maybe someday I can look back on this and be grateful for the experience.  I may not ever have a big, shiny castle or the glass slippers but as long as I have my health and loved ones close by life will be good.