Thursday, 4 March 2010

Where there's an end there'll also be a beginning

Whilst the renovation works in the house still haven't finished (it was supposed to be ready weeks ago, perhaps I jinxed it with my posts?), they are progressing. The day when we have to move and leave this house is drawing closer.

It was always going to be difficult, I knew that. To sell the place in the spring when it's at its best, makes perfect financial sense, but is also emotionally the most difficult. This house has been the centre point of our lives for the past 13 years. The children grew up here, and even though they don't theoretically live here any more, they still consider it home. Taking a refuge like that away from them seems cruel.

On a day like today, with crocuses and snow drops in full bloom and the dogs lazily milling around the garden, squinting into the sun, my heart aches when I think about leaving. It's difficult to imagine living somewhere else, where a walk across the fields isn't on the doorstep, where there are neighbours who can look into your garden or through your windows into your living room, where you can't listen to music as loud as you want, or have all-night parties whenever it pleases you. Last weekend, when the house was full, it seemed to purr with satisfaction. The walls soaked in the warmth of all the bodies and the roof nearly lifted with the laughter.

But then there are the days when sitting in the house on my own, I'd kill to see another human being. Even if it's just a glimpse of a stranger walking on the street. Or to be able to step outside and grab a coffee, or even nip out to buy a pint of milk without having to get into the car and drive for miles. My townie friends laugh when they see how much I enjoy using public transport; I love the London buses and even like sitting in the dirty tube reading the free papers. I know these things would wear thin after about a week of hard-core commuting, but at the moment the prospect seems blissful.

However hard it is, I know it's time to leave this house, let someone else make it their home.

Just as it is time to finish a story and move onto another.


Rose said...

that was lovely. it must be very hard. when my parents left our family home- our version of our family seat (much smaller!) i was very sad but i knew it was for the best and was happy for them too. in the end though it's the people in the house that make it what it is for the most part.

i love riding the bus and tube too and i do it all the time- i just don't like sharing the ride with lots of other people but a night time ride through central london and out to zone 3 is one of the cheapest pleasures

Looking Fab in your forties said...

I can understand how you feel the way you do. It feels worse to sell a house once some of the children have left home, because when they come home to your new house, it won't feel like their home anymore. Thats why I don't feel I can move, Daughter one and Uni girl wouldn't feel right about it.

Wildernesschic said...

Helena I know exactly how you feel I felt like that before we sold our last house, for the opposite reasons.. I wanted peace from people.
Even now I love my home but we went to view a farm the other day and had it not already been under offer .. well who knows??
Every home has a time and you are the right age to move now xx

Helena Halme said...

It's so difficult but as you say Ruth, it is the right time. I just wish we could agree on where we're moving to! While it's exciting to consider all the possibilities, it's also unsettling not knowing.

Helena xx

ThatGirl39 said...

It must be really hard, especially having put your heart and soul into the renovations. We have no plans to move from where we are so I can't imagine how it would feel to leave our home. But the new is exciting, although like you I would feel unsettled not knowing where I'm off too. I need to know every next step or I'm hell to live with! x

Helena Halme said...

ThatGirl39 - I'm working on that 'hell to live with' bit. Hope he succumbs to my way of thinking soon. xx