Today I sold a house–part of a copy & paste steel-mill-expansion neighborhood that I came to love for all of its quirks.
It was terrible to own. At times, I struggled mightily to afford it, and for many years, I only got by.
I never met my own expectations in it, and I certainly never excelled. But sometimes, throughout those long years, the house bought me a Quiet unmatched.
A puppy ran up and down the streets in front of it, and perched on the back of a love seat as she grew older, surveying the neighborhood during the day, waiting for my return from work. Snow days were fun. Cosmic conversations painted the back porch, which afforded beautiful sunsets and cold, clear moons, when I could be bothered to stop to see them.
Friends came and went, and during the time I was there, I learned more about myself than I am likely to do again.
Sometimes our burdens provide us with priceless insights.
With the ceaseless help of family, I endured that house, and in our final months together, we began to turn it to something more than I could alone, for all of my effort.
A place is what you make of it, and sometimes that house was a home. More importantly, it helped me understand the true meaning of home, that I might forge one wherever I go now.
I am humbled. I never could fully make it on my own during this time, and I am grateful for the months that led to my departure from that house. Today was a subtle finish from a long race I lost a long time ago. Thank you to all who knew me while I was there.
Here is to what lies beyond the walls behind which we are lost for a while.