Moving Day

From my second birthday to the day I graduated from college I lived in the same house. It was a lovely two story in a great neighborhood on a quiet street; as far as I know my folks never entertained the idea of moving. It was a perfect house and when I close my eyes I can still picture the great big primary colored flowers on my bedroom walls. I remember waking up each morning and only seeing a blur of color thanks to my legally blind eyes.

Since we never moved my first experience with a Realtor came in my mid-20’s when Sean and I bought a house. I remembered hearing stories about Realtors; the stories were never terribly complementary. By the time I was 35 we’d dealt with five different Realtors and after those experiences I understood why people told those stories.

The Realtor we used when we bought our current house was a piece of work. She’d been selling homes for many, many years, knew her area and was sure she knew exactly what we wanted. Only problem was she didn’t want to show me the houses I wanted to see. “No, that’s not on a good street.” “No, bad neighborhood.” “We’re not going there. No.” After working with her for a few months I came to realize she really did, in her heart of hearts, think she was helping but it came off as abrasive. I needed a softer touch during that transition but her only settings were SOS pad and grill brush.

While she did show us the house we eventually bought the best thing she did was find me a friend. She was showing houses to another family a few months after helping us and she thought that wife and I would get along well. She asked if she could pass my name and number to this family and I quickly agreed; I was thrilled to meet a new friend in my new city.

This family was also transferring with GM and they didn’t have any friends or family in the area -- same boat we were in. When the woman called and introduced herself, “Hi, this is Molly,” I had no idea a fast friendship had started. I also didn’t know her husband, Jeff, was working in the same department as Sean. That was four years ago this month.

Jeff was transferred a few months ago. This weekend he, Molly and their girls spent two nights in our basement because the movers packed up their lovely ranch on Friday and plan to unload Monday morning bright and early at their new house, an hour east of me. That, as the young folk say, is not cool.

I’m thankful they’ll be close. I’m thankful Jeff still has a job. I’m thankful for four years of friendship. I’m thankful so much of our time together produced great fodder for my writing (and so many excellent comments!). And ultimately I’m thankful for the gruff Realtor who passed my name along to a wonderful client who turned out to be a wonderful friend.