After my earlier post, I read email and blogs at a leisurely pace. I looked out the window off and on at the beautiful panorama, sipped coffee, and just had a lazy morning. Finally I went to the kitchen and began to cook some sausage and an egg for breakfast. Then about the time I popped a couple slices of oat-nut bread into the toaster, all my random thoughts of the morning sort of swirled together into my conscious mind, and I realized I had something to talk to Allan about. I decided to eat and ruminate consciously about my thoughts a few minutes.
Not three minutes later, just as I was sitting down to eat, Allan walked into the kitchen and said, "I've been thinking it over and . . . "
Well, long story short, we were contemplating the same thing and came to the same conclusion at almost the same moment! Some things had occurred in the last few days (other than my near death health crisis!) and although we had discussed it yesterday and decided just the opposite, today, the picture seemed different somehow. We have spent the rest of today putting everything together, and with the receipt of a couple more pieces of information, either this evening or tomorrow morning, we will be submitting my offer on . . .
. . . MY HOME!!!
I have transferred money for the down payment, the mortgage company is lining up my choices, the inspections and other preliminary matters are being tentatively scheduled, I've talked with the contractor whom I've requested doing some work at a future date. Allan is laboring over the necessary paperwork (ugh!!) to set the wheels in motion and making phone calls for this and that and the other thing.
It has been a busy day, but busy with a sense of joy for me, as I can now see that the end of that feeling of living in limbo in homes of others is near. Trust me, I know that those who have shared their homes with me during the last fifteen months have done so with love in their hearts. Sometimes the homes have been offered to support my transition through grief, as I watch my husband die, as I learned to live as a widow, as I moved through new, and not always friendly, territories and experiences. Others have offered me temporary respite from the grueling tasks of getting the house in Kansas City ready to sell. Finally, Allan has allowed me to make his home mine while I looked for my own. And now, at last, the "visitor" status of my life is going to change!
I promised you more information about it when the time was right, so here it is. You may remember that I said many aspects surprised even me. Well, for starters, I grew up in a town that had quadrupled (or more) in size almost overnight during the oil field boom in the 1950s. Under those circumstances the new people in town will live wherever they can find housing, and that often meant pulling in a trailer house, parking it anywhere that a space vaguely large enough could be found. It is not usually a pretty sight. "Oil field trailer trash" was about the equivalent of what many of us not think of when we hear terms like "redneck trailer trash." My bias was born and grew and thrived through the 50 years years since. Never, never in my whole life did I think I would consider living in a "trailer."
They are no longer called "trailers." They are categorized as "manufactured homes." And, yes, I've seen very nice ones! I have had friends and family members who live(d) in them, and I had no problem with it. But myself? Uh-uh! Old biases die hard, but they do die, given the right reasons. You know by now, of course, that I'm buying a . . . uh, an . . . uhmm, well, a trailer! OH, a manufactured home.
My future home is larger than the main floor of the home in Kansas City. It is just about the size I wanted, just slightly under 1300 square feet. It is the nest I've wanted to come home to between my travels. The big master suite is to die for with an open floor plan and a garden tub in one corner. The living room, dining room, kitchen is much like a great room, completely open and airy. The second and third bedrooms are reasonably comfortably sized. One will be my study with my books, my desk and an awesome view of the mountains out the window.
Speaking of view (I shared some of those pictures with you earlier), I have a panorama of two mountain ranges, and a long, georgeous valley below. The house faces East, and the front of it is blessed with a deck that is twelve to fourteen feet wide and runs the full 80 feet length of the place! I can hardly wait to greet morning on the porch swing or a big, oversized rough-hewn rocker I plan to put there with a cup of coffee. And, yes, Patrice, with the wood flute! I will also use that deck as a place to paint and to work on my various crafts, so long neglected.
One addition I want to make is a small free standing fireplace in the living room. Other changes are related to my taste, also, not due to any problems with the structure. It is a sound, solid home, and in very good shape. Nothing needs "fixed," just personalized.
I'm ecstatically happy about this move! I suppose I should be more reserved, just in case. But the house is mine. I have pictured myself and the dogs living there. I've mentally placed the furniture and hung the paintings on the walls. I've visualized the improvements, inside and out. I've imagined going on my trips and coming home to this place. It all feels right. And it is mine.
Being able to finally settle is a place that has my stamp on it is my dream, and by golly, it is gonna happen very soon! Offer up the hurrahs, the huzzahs, the joyful noise! Sing out loud, dance in the streets, shoot off the fireworks! I'm comin' home!!!