We’re in Chicago this week, packing up our home so we can complete our move East.
It’s been a two year process. In May of 2005 we listed our house with a vague idea that we would move to the New York area once it sold. We thought we’d have a last lazy summer in Chicago while we got used to the idea of leaving our adopted city and a house that we love.
We were in London the day the house was added to the real estate listings. At the Chelsea Flower Show. I know because that’s where I was standing when our real estate broker called. We had an offer. It had taken 47 minutes.
Two hours later they called back and offered us our asking price.
Panic set in. We came up with all the reasons why we weren’t ready. All the practical things that Chicago had for us. Doctors. Dentists. Vets. Dog day-care. All the friends we’d be leaving. The work we were doing at PAWS Chicago. All of this loss danced before our eyes.
We said no and took the house off the market.
My heart rejoiced.
Somewhere in the darker corners of my being, an instinct was hammering on the door of my fear trying to get out.
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