Homes

We drove out to Weston today to check out a single family house. There were a lot of twisty roads, beautiful snow-filled fields melting to reveal old cornstalks and horse jumps, and tall trees one month from first bud. Finally, the little blue house. On the market for 148 days. A BMW in the driveway: Realtor #1 was on the premises. We parked the Geo as a Mercedes SUV pulled up behind us. Ah, Realtor #2. We couldn't help but laugh, remembering our old house-hunting days and the glitz and glamour of realtors. Why? How? And apparently still lingering despite the times. A lady in suede boots hopped out and introduced herself to my husband as I pulled Peony out of her car seat. "Ooo, how old?" asked the realtor. "Eleven weeks on Monday," I said. "I can't believe there is a house in Weston that is this cheap!" she exclaimed. We went inside.

Standing around the family room, Realtor #1 said apologetically of the owner, "She really likes to decorate for the holidays. I guess right now it's St. Patrick's Day." The house was clearly loved, and every little nook and cranny had some beach detritus or shiny plastic shamrock on display. "This is sooo affordable...a great way to get into Weston," said Realtor #2. She fiddled with her diamond earring and tugged down her fur vest. We looked in the three little bedrooms, the neat and tiny kitchen, and the big living room. The ladies tottered down the basement steps in their subdued three-inch heels. We gaped at the huge oil tank and thousand year old furnace, a true relic. I'm not going to live here, I thought to myself, so I didn't look too closely or worry too much about the details.

But later I wondered, why not? There were people walking around the rural neighborhood in the warm air, but in our more urban neighborhood, we'd seen almost no one outside. There was a floor plan we could work with, a usable kitchen, decent floors and good yard space. Excellent schools and a nursery school on the corner. Good commutes to work and walkable public transportation. If I lived there, would I always be reminded of what I didn't have? Or would I just be happy?

Driving home, we mused about how nice it would be to not have upstairs nieghbors and to have a bedroom removed from a five-car driveway. How much we could do to make it ours.

And now I'm left wondering.