I don't want to leave. I just want to be home. Anyway, I can't be gone too long. Between the realtors, phone calls, photographer, mover, estimator, paperwork collector, broker, I need my desk.
But I don't want to go anywhere anyway. Maybe that is a symptom of loving a place so much you just want to breathe it all in. In the place where you grew. Home. At least for a few more days.
Several friends have called wanting to take me to lunch. It is hard to go. Hard to say goodbye. Some I probably won't see again. Others I sure hope to. So what do I say to a life of seventeen years in the mountains? I won't be saying the words, 'goodbye.' I don't believe in goodbyes. My friends are always in my heart even if I won't see them for a while, for for the rest of my life.
Seventy does that.
The photographer just left. The drone photographer may have already taken the video. I suspect I will know when the photos are on the realtor's website. She was terrific at staging, moving, rearranging. She made what could have been painful easy.
Someone comes to do measurements next week. Apparently they prefer to do their own floor plan. They didn't seem to want mine. I am happy with that. One less paper to find.
So here it is - Friday. It used to be my weekends were full. Lots going on. I don't mind so much these days. It is a different life. I wanted quiet. I've enjoyed quiet.
I plan to change that in Maine.
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