“Where are you from?” Brenda asks. Brenda is the real estate agent they randomly chose – they were driving by, there was an agency, they stopped, and Brenda was the agent in the office that afternoon. The office is old, the carpet dingy, the desk has seen a lot of deals done. Brenda herself is fresh, she wears a diamond pendant, her nails are immaculate.
Jacqui shifts uneasily. Mark looks at his shoes. Neither wants to admit where they’re coming from. Since they arrived, they’ve heard mutters about More of Them arriving daily. How it will ruin Here. They just want to be from here. But to get Here they still have to make over their entire lives and come from There first.
Two weeks ago, they drove seven and a half hours, to run a reconnaissance mission. Look at neighborhoods. Peer into grocery stores. Dine alongside the locals. Breathe the air. See if they can fit; see if this place could feel like home.
They’ve decided yes, this is where it is they want to eventually be buried. Even though there’s not a soul here who will mourn them – except each other.
When they finally tell Brenda, she admits, conspiratorially that she too is a transplant. They talk about listings, and timing and the future.
In the parking lot, Mark and Jacqui hold their heads a little higher. They have done it. They have secured a place. Now the hard part begins.
How to make over your life:
Inventory everything you own and reduce it by half. Pack the remaining half. Resign from the job that at which you started as a junior assistant and rose to a senior manager, over the course of twenty-two years. Hold several dinner parties to say good bye to friends. Put your house, your home of more than fifteen years on the market. Run through the five stages of grief all at once and then singly. Be impossibly unreasonable for a couple weeks. Keep your house pristine so it can be shown to potential buyers. Keep a list of all the things you will need to change: Your trust – it’s written under one state law, you’re moving across state lines. Change your cable company. Change your power company. Find new doctors find a new dentist. Don’t forget to find a new tax person, handyman, dog walker, coffee shop, reliable mechanic.
There’s too much to do, too little time to do it. How *do* you make over an entire life. Jacqui knows she’s done it before, completely different lives. But she was younger then.
“How’s the list coming?” Marc asks, putting his hand on Jacqui’s back and reading over her shoulder.
— Lkai
Jacqui shifts uneasily. Mark looks at his shoes. Neither wants to admit where they’re coming from. Since they arrived, they’ve heard mutters about More of Them arriving daily. How it will ruin Here. They just want to be from here. But to get Here they still have to make over their entire lives and come from There first.
Two weeks ago, they drove seven and a half hours, to run a reconnaissance mission. Look at neighborhoods. Peer into grocery stores. Dine alongside the locals. Breathe the air. See if they can fit; see if this place could feel like home.
They’ve decided yes, this is where it is they want to eventually be buried. Even though there’s not a soul here who will mourn them – except each other.
When they finally tell Brenda, she admits, conspiratorially that she too is a transplant. They talk about listings, and timing and the future.
In the parking lot, Mark and Jacqui hold their heads a little higher. They have done it. They have secured a place. Now the hard part begins.
How to make over your life:
Inventory everything you own and reduce it by half. Pack the remaining half. Resign from the job that at which you started as a junior assistant and rose to a senior manager, over the course of twenty-two years. Hold several dinner parties to say good bye to friends. Put your house, your home of more than fifteen years on the market. Run through the five stages of grief all at once and then singly. Be impossibly unreasonable for a couple weeks. Keep your house pristine so it can be shown to potential buyers. Keep a list of all the things you will need to change: Your trust – it’s written under one state law, you’re moving across state lines. Change your cable company. Change your power company. Find new doctors find a new dentist. Don’t forget to find a new tax person, handyman, dog walker, coffee shop, reliable mechanic.
There’s too much to do, too little time to do it. How *do* you make over an entire life. Jacqui knows she’s done it before, completely different lives. But she was younger then.
“How’s the list coming?” Marc asks, putting his hand on Jacqui’s back and reading over her shoulder.
— Lkai
My mother had to move every one to four years because my dad was career military. She was an expert. I have lived in the same house for over 35 years and am not an expert. You have captured it perfectly. Good job. Opelikakat
ReplyDeleteYes, you really captured the art of moving for sure.
ReplyDelete