This Friday, we are closing on the selling of my mother's house.
I have mixed feelings about this. I mean, I know it was inevitable. My mother hasn't actually lived in the house for over a year now. She's lived with my sister who takes great care of her even after her stroke. Several years ago, when my mom was healthy she had the forethought to "sell" her house to me and my siblings. She had an attorney draw up the sale and then over time forgave the debt which meant we didn't actually pay anything. She lived in the house as our "tenant" paying the heat and utilities as her rent. It was a pretty good plan - one that allowed her to stay in her home for many years on a very low, fixed income. But now...
That house was the second home I ever lived in. We moved there when I was in the 4th grade. I remember that so clearly because we could never find my gym shoes after that and I had an "excuse" to skip gym for a while. I lived there until after I graduated from the University of Wisconsin - Parkside. Then I moved to Chicago for four years but came back nearly every weekend to visit (and do my laundry!). Then I moved back home and lived there for a long time - just me and my mom. That's why we have always been so close. I got to spend a lot of time with her, in that house, alone and that's a luxury my siblings never had.
Her house is old. It needs a lot of work - new electrical, new sub-flooring, the kitchen is in the basement - not exactly a great selling point. But we have a buyer and we close on Friday. Me and my brother and sisters will gain a little cash from the sale. Not much - because it's not worth much. Well, at least from a realtor's point of view. To me, it's worth millions because it's filled with memories of growing up, becoming a real person, learning so many lessons, laughter, tantrums and tears. There is no price tag on that.
So, Friday, I will put on my big girl panties, take a deep breath, and face one of those milestones that life sometimes hands out. And I'll be fine.