I have this feeling in the pit of my stomach. It's hard to describe except to say that it's the same feeling I get when I take a pregnancy test and the results are positive. No matter that all my pregnancies have been planned and expected, whenever I saw that little plus sign I had the same feeling: excitement followed by a huge dose of sheer terror.
Without exception every time I've found out I was pregnant I've said, "Oh crap." Hallmark moments, I am not.
That's the feeling I have right now. That feeling of joy and excitement mixed in with more than a small amount of terror and...what? sadness? uncertainty? mourning? I don't know. But my gut feels it.
The middle-length story of the past couple days is thusly.
Tuesday, a woman--let's call her Ms. K--and her daughter came to see our house with their realtor. We went for a walk while they toured the house. We came home to grab some food, vacuum for another showing, and as we were doing another clean sweep through the house, Ms. K's realtor called and asked if they could see the house again that evening.
"She's looking through a few other houses right now, but she really wants to come back and see your house." Of course, we agreed because we want someone to buy our house and the more often someone sees your house, the more likely (hopefully) they are to make an offer. Oh, and haven't you heard? Getting an offer on a house is small miracle these days.
Before we could make it out of the house, Ms. K and her realtor came back to see the house. Since we had been having trouble with the key-box outside our door, we had been leaving the front door unlocked for showings. Ms. K jokes about locking the door so the other people who are going to be touring the house won't be able to see it. We take this as a strong sign of interest.
We headed out again to get dinner at Jamba Juice and Great Harvest Bread Co., and Ms. K's realtor called again: "She really likes your house and wants her parents to see it tomorrow." We hold our breath, hoping that she'd make an offer.
Wednesday night an offer came in. It's too low. We know how much money we have to walk away with to use as a down payment on building the new house. Her offer didn't meet this number.
We are so sad. In fact, we're sad for both of us. Along with the offer came a letter from Ms. K's realtor explaining a little bit of why the offer was so low. We believed her, but we still couldn't accept the offer.
Thursday morning we counter offered.
This morning we moved into some discussions between our realtor and Ms. K's realtor, trying to come to a number that we could both live with. We wanted to sell the house; she really wanted to buy the house. Neither of us was interested in walking away from this deal. They counter offer our counter offer (we agree on price); we counter offer their counter offer (they agree on closing date).
We have each accepted the offer. The house was on the market for less than a month, and as it turns out we now have less than a month to move out. Barring an unforeseen glitch in the process, it appears to be that in four weeks we will no longer be residents of Kevin Street.
I'm happy. I am. I mean...gosh, this is what we had hoped for. Someone is buying our house.
I can feel it all inside me: relief, excitement, expectation. And there, swirling beside the happiness is something else. That same feeling I got whenever I found out I was pregnant...what's it called? Joyful terror.
And as I sat here typing up this post, I got an email from Ms. K's realtor saying, "Thank you sooo much! M is so thankful to you for being willing to come down on the price."
I can't help but say, "Thank you, God, for answering our prayers." Yet in the same breath I also hear myself mutter, "Oh crap."
We sold our house.