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We have a sales contract on our house in south Georgia. The contingency period is almost over, 3 more days. I should be ecstatic about being able to get out from under a house I’m not living in. Should be, but I’m not.




I hated the rural town where the house is located. To small, close minded community, to far south, and far from my closest friends. I hate the way having to pay for it and our new living arrangements in KC are such a financial burden. I know I wouldn’t ever want to move back that far south.



However, with all of that going against it. I still love the house. It’s flower lined walkway leading to the sweeping steps that converses onto the huge front porch with it’s Greek columns. I love the four fireplaces, grand center hallway lined with book selves. I love having three bathrooms and four bedrooms. I love having a formal living room and separate den. I love my huge bedroom that allowed for separate sitting areas along with my large bedroom furniture. I love having all wood floors and the twelve foot ceilings. I love the century old shrubs and trees. I loved how safe I felt within the house’s walls. It has stood strong, proud, and beautiful for over a hundred years. I liked being a part of it’s history.



I could have another house. Another old house if I wished. But I won’t, not for a very long time. We seem to move every two years and I’m sick of getting attached only to have to break away. I never had a real home of my own growing up.



My father moved us from place to place in my early years; much like we are doing to my own child. When my parents did divorce and my mom remarried we lived in “his” house. A fact that he never let us forget. I was told weekly if not daily that it was “his” house. I had always wanted a place of my own where I could feel safe and secure. A place that would always be mine, not just some rental.



I had just gotten my house in Savannah the way I wanted it when we had to move to south Georgia. The year it took to sell that house demolished our savings and ran up our other bills. I waited eight months for the right house to come along in south Georgia to buy again. The price was great and I’d never lived anywhere with that much space. I’d never lived anywhere that was that grand and elegant. Wood, granite, stone; nothing cheap about it.



We were only in the house for five months when we found out that my husband’s DC was closing and we’d have to move. Thankful that he’d been offered another job with more money within the same company.



I had to sell most of the antiques I had bought to fill the large house. We knew that all of our items wouldn’t fit into one of the self driving moving trucks. Plus, we were going to need as much cash as possible for making the move.  (My husband's company payed for the move but it comes out of his P&L.)



I like the new city. The house we are renting is large but it’s a rental. Meaning, that the owners haven’t kept up with it the way they should and all the walls and trim work are the same boring off white. My sister and her son moved with us and are living with us. I’m glad to have my sister nearby. However, having two other adults in the same house does add to tension. Financially the strain of having two more adults and the extra cost of a bigger place to contain us is bearing down hard. I think my husband’s generosity is being pushed a bit to much now that we have been her for over three months.



I should be thrilled that the Georgia house is about to be sold. That will greatly help our finances. It will relieve some of our stress. So, why don’t I feel jubilant?



Is it because I know I don’t plan on buying another house for several years? I refuse to get attached and have to deal with the issues of putting another house up for sale. I know the odds of us staying in this town for more than five or seven years are slim. I’ll be shocked it we stay over three years. So, why buy anything.



I told my husband I want to buy a driving RV. That way we have a home on wheels. Would make moving a heck of a lot easier. Yeah, I said it as a joke but I think there is some truth behind it. If nothing else, I wouldn’t mind buying a rustic cabin somewhere in the lower Appalachian mountains. A vacation home but somewhere I can think of as being solely mine and always there for me when I need the security.



Knock on wood, the sale will be final in a few weeks. Six months from now we will be caught back up to where our finances were prior to this move.



I don’t plan on unpacking anymore boxes or hanging anything on the walls. Knowing this is a temporary stay and I feel for it just like I would a hotel room.



Yep, I think holding out until we can afford to buy a small second home for vacationing is going to be my next move. Something on the water surrounded by mountains. Within a hour drive from a major city. Jet skis, deck boat, fireplace, hot tub, vegetable garden, flower garden… Yeah, that all sounds lovely and gives a bit of a light down the tunnel to aim for.