The mere idea of summing up the past two weeks in a snappy, concise post is enough to make me laugh. In true 2020 fashion, the final push toward the move has not gone remotely according to plan. I wouldn’t feel right disclosing too many details here, but I can say this. Two days before our scheduled closing on 12/10, we were notified that there was an issue with the title of the house. Namely, it wasn’t free of liens. As a newbie home-buyer, I wasn’t aware of what an issue this would pose, but… issues aplenty we now had. Not only could we not close on the house, but we maybe didn’t have a place to live once we moved out of our apartment in just two weeks.

What followed next was a flurry of phone calls, research, pro-bono legal advice from friends, and more than a few panicked moments of wondering what the hell we were going to do. We are in the lucky group of people who have options: we could put our belongings in storage and move into the family cabin up north (which is used only as a vacation spot). This posed its own issues since we’d be many hours away from Alan’s work and any real civilization. We could also rent a home in the area where the house is, which would also be temporary and would require a monthly fee and another move into the house whenever it became legally ours. OR…we could work out an arrangement with the seller to move into the house pending closing. Meaning, we wouldn’t technically own it yet, but we could take occupancy on the date already scheduled and would only have to move once. Then we’d wait until the title issues were resolved at which time we’d go ahead with the closing. We couldn’t make any structural changes to the house during this time and would probably feel a little like guests. We could start to situate the furniture, though, and get a sense of the house and make a list of what it might need in the future. While not ideal, this seemed to be the most appealing option for many reasons. So…that’s what we settled on. We drew up the paperwork, got renter’s insurance, and confirmed our appointment with the moving company. We also asked for a final walkthrough of the house before we signed anything. I realized that in the previous visits, I’d been remiss in looking behind the paintings and underneath the rugs to make sure things were ship shape. So the drive up to the house for this final inspection was pretty nerve-wracking. Had I made a mistake by not scrutinizing everything more closely? Remember, Alan had only seen the house once and that was after we’d already made the offer on it! There was a lot of pressure for it to be not only lovely but livable. I silently prayed during the 3-hour drive that this house was worth all the stress and hardball.

The town had gotten a major blizzard a few days prior. So we were seeing the house at its most wintery! Thankfully, the driveway had been plowed and we were able to easily get to the door. The first glance was…honestly even better than I remembered. Without all the furniture from the staging, we could really appreciate the craftsman style of the interiors. The molding on the doors and windows really stood out against the stark walls. Sadie was zooming from room to room, checking out the view from all the (low-vantage), windows and sliding across the polished wooden floors. Although nobody had been living there for a while, it felt so cozy and warm despite the near-freezing temperatures outside. And I fell in love again as I walked through the house, re-acquainting myself with each space and mentally painting its future.

There was an unfortunate situation where an old casement window had blown open above the kitchen sink some days prior, causing the faucet to not only freeze but also crack. (Ah, winters up north…) But a plumber soon came by to fix this right up. (Another reason for us to move in ASAP- old houses in particular want to be lived in and looked after!) We hadn’t brought much with us in terms of possessions, but the few boxes we’d brought were seamlessly unpacked into their new home. And that was enough to assuage any lingering worries that this was not our house. It was, without a doubt, where we were meant to be.

That night we set up an air mattress, complements of my mother-in-law. Apparently she knows me well and anticipated I’d want to sleep in the house ASAP, even before our furniture arrived. Ha. After we’d finished our dinner of takeout Mexican (edible, but maybe we’ll have to keep searching for our favorite delivery options), I went through the house once more, seeing what needed shutting down for the night. There’s a gas-fed stove in our bedroom upstairs which needed to be turned off. The lights in the many cozy rooms, the beautiful windows that had been cracked open to let in fresh air, the doors we’d opened for easy access of boxes. As I took care of each, I also got to say “goodnight” and “good to meet you” to each space that would soon hold our whole life in its walls.

And as each room was darkened, I caught my breath as I saw the neighboring holiday lights decorating the nearby houses. These were our new neighbors! Our new community! I knew nothing of them (except that they were full of holiday cheer), and I suddenly had some trepidation that maybe they wouldn’t accept the new kids on the block. Would they get mad at Sadie for barking at passing cars? Would they judge us if we put up Black Lives Matter signs? Would they ignore us completely? It occurred to me that until this point, all other places I’d lived in my adult life had been intentionally temporary. Whether it was rising rents, roommates needing to end the lease, or just a change of my ever-changing circumstances, I hadn’t stayed in any one apartment for more than 3 years. The anonymity of the city meant that this didn’t bother me and I had the option to leave as soon as it didn’t suit me anymore. But here we were, putting down roots in a real way for the first time. It’s exhilarating and scary. And I think it will be really good for us. We’ll learn how to adapt to our surroundings and maybe leave our imprint there as well. If our neighbors have wildly different political views (which, let’s face it, is highly possible once we leave Brooklyn), maybe we can make a small step toward healing the gaping rift between our country’s parties. If they’re much older than I am, then maybe I’ll finally get to interact with the elderly- something I have personally felt a great lack of. And I don’t know what other things this will teach me. I hope for more patience, more acceptance, and gratitude to finally have a house for our wonderfully wacky little family.