Sold

An old heating vent in my office in our house in the Irvington neighborhood of Portland, Oregon

We put our house in Portland on the market on Friday and had our first offer Sunday evening, the second Monday morning. Monday evening when I got home from work we accepted the first offer, sounds like a family who is excited about the house, which makes me happy. Time for it to be a home again. This heating vent is in my old office, when we moved in I had the walls painted sky blue so with the white trim and ceilings and the brown hardwood floor, I’d have a representation of the brown earth beneath my feet and clouds and blue sky all around me. We were there sixteen years, I will always have an intense love for that old house, our old home.

A Woman Scrapes Ice From Her Windows

A woman scrapes ice from her car windows on Christmas morning in the Irvington neighborhood of Portland, Oregon

It’s been cooler than normal this past week in Scottsdale, but cooler in the sense that I wore a long sleeve shirt last night rather than I was scraping ice from my car windows. This was Christmas morning in Portland, a rare (barely) white Christmas. It was the overnight ice that was naughty not nice, coating the streets and causing problems for those going to visit family Christmas morning, or for a man wanting to walk his elderly dog.

Goodbye House, I Love You

Our cat Boo gives our cat Trixie the side-eye

I’ve saved my last goodbye for the house that has been our home for sixteen years. Built in 1925, old homes have their charms and their challenges. This one has charmed me and it’s hard to say goodbye but it is time. The movers are packing our belongings and loading it onto the truck. Tomorrow we leave for Arizona.

It’s funny what you fall in love with, sometimes it’s the little things. I’ll always remember the wooden grate over the heating vent that attracted the cats like a watering hole in a dry savannah. Trixie loves it, as have many of our cats, including Boo who was already occupying it and wondering about his sister’s intentions as he gave her the side-eye on her approach.

The mover’s were surprised we aren’t taking the stained glass windows with us, which hang just inside of the real windows. They were here when we bought the house, home-made I would guess, but do a lovely job of providing privacy while letting in light.

These old houses have their challenges too. I won’t miss the tiny one car garage. You get used to contractors coming out to fix what seems like a simple problem and hearing them say “I’ve never seen this before”. We had an electrician out recently who based on my description of the problem thought it would be an easy fix, as it had been a long day and he was ready for home. Two hours later …

When I think of home I think of this house. I’ve never lived anywhere nearly as long as we’ve lived here. It will still be a home, just not ours. I hope it protects and delights its new owners as well it has us. Goodbye, I love you.

A stained-glass window that sits inside of the real window in an old house in the Irvington neighborhood of Portland, Oregon