Say good-bye to the play set, kids!

Three low-ball offers later, we have finally accepted an offer for our house in Chicagoland. After going back and forth in negotiations, we had to begrudgingly throw in the washer/dryer and brand-new Rainbow Play Systems swing set to sweeten the deal. In today's market, you almost have to give your firstborn child (and the kitchen sink) to entice and satisfy buyers.

I still have mixed emotions about selling the house. I'm mostly angry and depressed because not only are we practically giving the house away but we also gave away the kids' beloved play set to boot! What else in my life is for sale--cheap? It's like someone is hosting a garage sale on my life and everything must go! I sold my car before moving west. I gave away boxes and boxes of toys, clothes, shoes, books, and who knows what else. Now, we're selling the house. A houseful of memories clear as day, with laughter that still rings through its hallways and tears that have stained the carpets. If we hold dear the memories of this house, will this dwelling dwell upon us?

I have become sentimental in my approaching old age.

Like walking through a Salvador Dali painting

Driving home after volunteering in my son's 1st grade class for the morning, I see the "For Sale by ReMax" sign planted on my lawn. Surreal moment seeing this foreign object sticking out of my otherwise nicely manicured lawn. Surreal because I feel like I'm wandering aimlessly through Salvador Dali's painting titled "The Persistence of Memory." These melting watches are said to symbolize the irrelevance of time.  As I meander around in the painting, I'm trying to take hold of time--to grasp these clocks. However, I can't seem to get a good grip. It seems my frustration lies not within the irrelevance of time but its absolute relevance. Absolute because there is no stopping linear time. We are selling the house. Eventually it will be sold. Our time in the midwest (at least for now) has come to an end. We will move to SF. We will live in a high-rise apartment in downtown SF for six months. The six month lease will come to an end. We will buy a house in the suburbs. The kids will go to school somewhere. They will graduate high school. They will graduate college. They will get married. They will have a family. I will be a grandmother. And so on.

Time marches forth with every tick and tock. And it waits for no one. This is our reality.

I feel like throwing up. I want to pull out that For Sale sign off my lawn. I want to turn back time and relive the last seven years in our home again. Don't wake me from this dream. Just let me linger a few tick tocks more.