It has been the place I called home since July 16, 1973. The only place my younger sister has ever known as home. My husband and I bought it from my parents in 1999, with the dream of raising a family, then retiring there. In 2005 it became solely mine, my security blanket, comfort zone, and my stand for independence of what I could handle.
Today I signed the papers and it will be someone else’s home. A family who is from the town. I went to school with their aunt. It is the logical choice. I haven’t made a house payment since I lost my job. I realized in 2007 that selling the house was going to be my best decision, but the market was starting to decline. Now, none of that mattered. The bank agreed to a short sale. The house was selling for 50% of what we paid for it.
I was moving to the family farm. The property was bought around 1915 by my great-grandmother. The farmhouse was sold when my grandfather died. My grandmother was moving on and moving out. My father owned the property – 95 acres of clay farm ground. He had 2 pole barns he built, one with living quarters. This is where I would live until I could get things turned around, reboot this life.
I was giving up one family homestead for another. Not many people have that opportunity. God has blessed me.