The End of an Era (aka The Occupational Hazard of Being a Realtor)



Car salesmen are fickle with vehicles, often upgrading to newer models as soon as they hit the showfloor. Computer programmers (like my husband)  rotate electronics seemingly with the seasons, gifting their wares as a love-language. Mechanics tend to have full garages and driveways; photographers have portraits adorning ‘most every wall of their homes. And, statistically, Realtors move a lot. File it under occupational hazards: I’m a Realtor, and we’re moving again.

Three years ago we quietly sold our countryside home in Montana in hopes of moving closer to family in Oregon. What we didn’t know at the time was just how very close God would move us– we wound up buying the fixer-upper right next door to my [much older] sister, brother-in-law, and three nieces.

early shot of our two homes

Since then, we’ve been blessed to live in a modern commune of sorts– sharing a property line and roving menagerie of pets*; potlucking almost weekly; swapping kids, cars, and condiments without bat of an eye; partaking of post-bedtime boardgames and taking turns supervising the kids outside… It was the best of times, IT WAS THE BEST of times. Though we knew from the outset it’d just be for a short, sweet season, it still feels like the end of an era.

(*her chickens graze in my lawn, my cats poop in her garden) 

my chicken nieces
they have an understanding

Our move is less impulsive than it seems– less flight of fancy than strategic, calculated investment paired with emotional detachment to housing*. Our growing children desire more space– (the girls want their own rooms and a place to “hang” with their friends), Husband’s growing business requires more quiet, and soon there’ll be more cars to fit in the driveway. With all five of us working/teaching/learning from home 24/7 we’re in our den a lot more than the average bears. We believe we’ve found a final home from which to launch our growing kids into adulthood. 

(*see again vocation hazards, we’re buying a home I was hired to sell)

It’s bittersweet, and we’re grieving as we bid farewell to the humble home we’ve laboriously remodeled* and lived closely in for these past few years. Mostly, we’re grieving the loss of proximity to cousins, though we’ll only be across town from them and we expect to wear the route between us down from frequent visits. It’s the end of an era, but all of us will forever treasure our fond memories of this special time where we were blessed to lived next door to each other.  

(*see our home’s tranformation here, here, here, here, and here) 

An assortment of additional precious memories:


One response to “The End of an Era (aka The Occupational Hazard of Being a Realtor)”

  1. […] awash in a sea of boxes; up to my ears in contractors, inspectors, and paperwork. T minus 19 days until we move and we’re working our tails off, all the while juggling work and homeschool in the […]

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