About a month ago my elderly washing machine pooped out. Two previous repair visits yielded no remedy. But I’m told the repairman will be here “soon” with the needed part.
So for the first time in years I’ve become a regular at a laundromat, next town over, 20 miles away. Laundromats have seriously upgraded. This one is very clean, has lots of washers and they all work. You don’t need quarters… just slide your debit card through the reader. There’s even a coffee bar! All that said, I seriously, with all my heart and every fiber of my being, hope this is my last visit to the laundromat.
I’ve lost track of all the times we’ve sold our house since we put it on the market last summer. It’s the house that just keeps selling… over and over and over again. Our neighbors are confused and regularly surprised to see us.
We had a sale in the works last November. Since holidays were looming, we all agreed on a closing date of February 1st. We were one week out from the moving company’s arrival when the buyers cancelled.
We elected to put a new roof on the house and went back on the market. We immediately received an offer, two actually. Second place offer asked to be kept in the line up in case first place baled. And you know what? They did bale. They loved the brand new roof so much, they figured we should foot the bill for new siding as well.
It was an easy “NO” from Doug and I. For the first time in months, I didn’t let my desperate heart bully me. Because the reality is, there is nothing to be desperate about.
So second place offer stepped up. They came by recently for another look around. We invited them in for coffee, listened to their plans and shared some of ours. The wife admitted she’d been praying fervently for the first offer to fall through. And I am praying fervently for this to be the last time we sell the house!
We’re on a three week count down…
One son’s family was stuck in snow and ice with no power a few days ago. They headed our way for relief. Kids kept busy on their tablets, with intermittent hooping and hollering in the yard. Parents took laptops and cell phones to different rooms of the house to work remotely, coronavirus-style. And grandparents just made food and enjoyed the company.
I believe we’ve had our last family sleepover, which is a little sad. It was the first time Avery and I made brownies together.
Looking through photos on my phone, I found two taken August 21, 2019. I often took photos of my mom, but this time she wanted to take one of me. Because I didn’t like how I looked (such vanity) and my hair needed help in the worst way, I conveniently forgot about them. As I recounted events from that time forward I realized we never had lunch out again. Future doctor visits left her too tired, so we went straight home. I didn’t know it would be our last lunch date.
Dad was the photographer in our family, so I guess I can count this as the first and last photo Mom took of me.
The first anniversary of Mom’s death came and went last week.
It will not be the last time I miss her.
I know for sure that Heaven is a beautiful place… she is there.