Many years ago we lived in Massachusetts. We had a beautiful and very large 4 bedroom house in a very exclusive community. Truth be told, we were in over our heads, but the point here is that it was in a great neighborhood at a time when the average market days for houses for sale was a mere 14 days. People were told to bring their check books to showings.
We found a smaller house on a much smaller lot in a very non-exclusive community and bought it. The good thing was that it wasn't completed yet so we were able to make many changes and upgrades, including a much loved double convection wall oven. I don't remember how many sheets of cookies it promised to cook all at once but it was impressive.
We had showing after showing and no offers on our house. The agents couldn't offer any explanation why no one wanted our beautiful house and many more days than 14 ticked by. It was coming time to close on the new house and the broker was putting pressure on us to get a bridge loan. "Everyone does it" we were told. Having two houses was completely out of our comfort zone, and just because everyone did it didn't mean we should or that we would. Finally we had to back out of the contract on the new house. Having made many expensive upgrades the builder was less than pleased, but we didn't feel that we had any choice.
Then Gary mentioned moving to Maine and we found a house. The sellers loved us so much they told the agents to stop showing it and they didn't want to be presented with any other offers. The house was ours no matter how long it took. The agents asked what on earth we had said to them because they had never heard of anything like it. Honestly, I have no idea! We went back home and placed our house back on the market. It sold, just like that. For what we were asking.
Even the transition was simple...our lawyer closed the Mass house for us and the sellers left the key under the doormat so we could move in a week before we owned the place.
With all the turmoil in my house right now, I have to believe that we are in the first house stage of things. The girls went for a respite visit this weekend. We packed several boxes and even sent their bikes and helmets. Their bookshelf is empty. The next time they go it will be the last. The house is empty. Our hearts are heavy. Someday I believe we will look back and KNOW that this was the right thing, that the girls are where they need to be and our children, whoever they may be are with us.
When we think about that other house we are so grateful that it was never ours. It was much smaller, had a tiny lot, was really far away from anyplace of value, and my mother's crazy friend bought the house across the street. It really wasn't mean to be, and thankfully never was.