I just stepped outside into one of those rare, magical moments. The moon is a full, bulbous incandescent disc hanging in the sky. The world is stark and the blacktop road is just damp enough that it reads silver as it slips between the trees.
I’ve come to this page over and over in the last few days hoping that I would be able to write something, share some of the change that is happening but each time I found myself mute, my voice locked behind a lump.
I am not sad. I am actually a little excited to explore the adventure in front of us but I think I had to acknowledge something before I could move. I realized today what that something is.
There will probably never again in my life be another place that holds the same possibilities that this place holds. That’s okay. It’s not even a bad thing. It just is. And even after realizing that the unplumbed possibilities of this place are what I have been unconsciously mourning I am still ready to move on. There are other things like family, friends, and long stretches of sunshine that I value more.
I just wanted to acknowledge that.
So here’s the update.
Our house is not even going to make it to market. Word spread of our decision to sell and we got an offer. While we were drafting a counter-offer another party knocked on our door and left their contact information in case the first deal fell through. We made our counter and it was accepted. Inspection periods and all that stuff are almost over and the only thing left to do is the appraisal. If, knock on wood, that goes well we will close by the end of February, maybe sooner.
We have a spot reserved in a nice RV park about 20 miles away. Then it becomes just a matter of waiting and watching for the right opportunity to head back east. I wonder how many other would-be farmers turned around and headed back east? For us though, heading back east will be just less west. 🙂
I guess that’s it.
For now… <insert intriguing music>