Thursday, August 21, 2008

On the market

Our house is officially on the market. When I saw the listing online last night I cried. I love our house. We have put so much time and work into it, planning to stay here for awhile.

That plan was derailed.

A new job for Kevin in a different city. It's just too far to drive, and as much as I love where we are, it certainly isn't fair for me to push to stay here when I'm not the one commuting. I know that moving out of Raleigh will also enable us to have something newer, larger, and nicer. I know these things.

But seeing our house out there, on the market, made me sad.

I followed the photographer around today, wondering what she saw through her lens. Did she see a house that was updated and ready to sell? Did she see the home we have created?

Did she see how we removed our disco ball and put it in storage for the time being so that people wouldn't get their chuckles from the pictures on our listing?

Some people won't like our artwork. It's modern. It's local. It's funky.

Some people won't like our paint colors. The family room actually has the word peach in the name. Yes, I know. The eighties live on in our family room and we like it.

Some people won't like our backyard. Because it is seriously neglected.

Some people won't like Lovely's bathroom. Unless Pepto Bismol is their favorite color. I should never be allowed to pick paint colors. Ever.

What I hope they see when they look at our house is a kitchen that is large and inviting. I hope they stand in it and can imagine how well a family fits there. How there is room for 2 or 3 people to be helping at the same time. How it is designed to cook and bake and to serve a family.

I hope they see a master bath that has been brought into this century. When they look at it, I wish they could see through the walls and the floor to know how much work Papa and Kevin put into transforming it.

I hope they can stand in the nursery and know how much love went into every board we laid. If they knew that, then they should also know that I was seven months pregnant while laying that floor. I wish they knew that it was a nursery that carried me through the loss of one baby and into the gift of another. That I sat in that Lemon Chiffon room and prayed and prayed for it to be needed for our child one day.

Beyond all of the things that other people will think are weird in our home, I hope that they see a family who has been happy here. Rooms for children. Rooms to make music. Rooms to cook together and eat together.

I hope they can tell there is a lot of love here.

And I hope, seriously hope, that it doesn't smell like dogs. Ha. Hahahahaha. Ha.