Once we decided to pull the plug on Portland, which happened on June 24 (our wedding anniversary) we set about selling our house. And since everyone told us houses sell much better in summer, we were on a very tight timeline. We had to get rid of a bunch of stuff to make it presentable for showing, as they say in the real estate biz. Together, Ric and I have been acquiring things for 137 years. And that acquisition has been taking place at Madison Pond for a collective 60 years. We have a lot of stuff. Way too much, as it turns out.
So we had a sale to remove a bunch of things. And a second one to remove even more. Since we didn’t yet have a new place to put stuff, we hired a moving/storage company to come take away things we wanted to keep. That made the rooms in our home empty enough to look like real people didn’t live there, which is apparently what realtors strive for when they show homes. But of course that wasn’t really possible at Madison Pond, because we have an excess of personality that shows up in the color of our walls, the quirks we employ when we improve things in our environment.
Not everybody would keep plants in their parking strip that resemble engorged erect penises, for example. Whatev.
The best we could hope for was that someone would be taken with our sense of style. Failing that, they had the ability to erase slates in their mind’s eye so they could start over. I’m not sure which we got, but we got an offer on our house almost immediately, we accepted it and the laborious closing process ensued. As it turns out, the buyer is an artist, so we prefer to think he appreciates our aesthetic. But who knows. He grew up in the neighborhood, so it is a kind of homecoming for him.
So where are we going? Well, for now, we are on the road. You can follow our adventures on our Riding in Rigby Facebook page. It will be an extended road trip because we don’t have anywhere to go yet. But we will.
If all goes as planned, sometime in early January the moving/storage company will once again pack up our belongings and move them to a new house in the little village we visited for Father’s Day. We bought a house that is being built there. Our official address will be Pacific Beach WA because it is the nearest post office. We will actually reside in Seabrook, the new little place we were drawn to which does not yet appear on maps. At this point, there are fewer than 350 homes there, and only about 100 permanent residents. (Most homes are vacation homes that are rented out when the owners aren’t there.)
We’ll live in the Farm District. It won’t have a view of the ocean, but when it’s quiet we’ll be able to hear it. And we can always smell it. And that will give us life. It’s quite near the wondrous wilderness of Olympic National Park. It will get dark enough that we’ll have a view of the night sky. When it’s not raining, of course. It gets twice as much rain as Portland, a rather sobering stat. But the Pacific Ocean. We can walk beside it every day. We can feel it in our bones. It will become part of us.
It will soothe and calm us. It will help us heal. I will take Blaine with me, but there will be space for something new there. My heart will be able to open, slowly at first, but then wider. Our family and friends will come visit us. We plan to return to Portland often.
But our hearts will belong to Seabrook. Even though it’s remote and isolated, we can arrange it so everything we need on a daily basis will be within a five minute walk. Medical care is much further away, which is pretty risky considering our age and certain health issues. Despie all that, we’re sure living there will extend our lives. We can feel it already.