We are in the process of looking for a new home. Actually, I guess you would call it a new “house” because it won’t be a “home” until we make it so. Our reason is the future need for a first floor owner’s bedroom. They used to call it a master bedroom, but we all know that is no longer politically correct. What future means to us is that our legs are deciding to go north while our brain is deciding to go south. Or something like that.
The house we are considering is a single family house in a large development on a half-acre of land, hopefully overlooking a pond. I somehow need to look at moving water to soothe my soul. This seems like a lot to undertake as we are approaching senility, but hey, no one ever accused us of being sane. Besides, R has promised me that he won’t buy a mowing tractor or a tractor lawn mower, but will hire someone to manage that part of our life. I’ll believe it when I see it.
At any rate, after looking at all the pro’s and con’s of this house we are doing it anyway and I guess hoping that God will somehow provide for all of our deficiencies whether that be financial, spiritually, or physically and we will live happily ever after in our new house-to-become-a-home. I guess you might say that we are either eternal optimists or nuts.
But then, something happened to me yesterday that made me wonder if we shouldn’t be looking for a different kind of home. We have those portable phones that are not attached to the wall. So very handy for walking around the house talking and not being jerked back at the end of a six or ten foot tether. I was talking DD #1 on that very phone and she said she had tried to call me not 15 minutes earlier on that same phone. Funny, I said, we were sitting right here having breakfast and the phone didn’t ring. A sane enough conversation.
But then I looked at the cradle that usually housed my portable phone and it wasn’t there. So, I told my daughter that I couldn’t find my phone and, as we were chatting, I began to wander around the bedroom and the loft to see where I had last put it down. My DD #2 (who was downstairs and overheard me) told me to call it and see where it rang. I finally gave up looking and finished my conversation with DD #1.
As I hung up it was then that I realized I couldn’t find my portable phone because I was talking on it and it was plastered to my right ear! And, it was then that I began to wonder if maybe we should be looking at a nursing home rather than the house we were contemplating. Naw, not yet. It was only a momentary lapse. Right? Right!
Rita we all reach that point in life where we need to shed our large 2-stories homes for a one floor; my bride and I hate to bring up the conversation, but I mostly do. Our place has been home to five kids, and the 2 acre lot has made it a play haven for kids in the neighborhood as well as for ours and our grand kids.
Try as I may, I just can’t get our split level into one level. Good luck to you; I know you have moved before, our home has been the same since we married, 42 years.
Thanks, Frank! I guess if we don’t make the move someone else will have to make the decision for us and that isn’t an attractive alternative. It is such a blessing that you have been able to be in the same home for 42 years! That kind of security and stability is a real gift to your children and grandchildren!