Sympatico
I don't recall my last closing. It happened quickly. All the events tumbled into one another--divorce, looking for my own place. That's all I wanted --to own my own place free and clear.
The ad for new condos appeared in Sunday's paper and I cut it out and circled the opening. I decided I wanted to live there when I saw the unit. The first building on the right as you came in. It was one of fifteen six unit buildings. Except for the model unit the other five units in that first building were available.
I walked into each unit and went upstairs to the room facing the conservation land and visualized my Selectra electric typewriter on its table in front of the window. Would that be a good place to write and the unit I bought just felt perfect.
By that afternoon I wrote out a five hundred dollar check to hold the unit until I could bring some people to look at it. I brought my friend Mary's husband, Fran.
Fran, who bought old homes and fixed them up, spent an hour going over everything and gave it a thumbs up. I bought the house the next day.
Somehow the actual closing eludes me, but I recall picking out the counter color, tiles, and rugs. Save for one small upgrade I stayed within the allotted amount.
My real estate agent told me to spend the extra money and finish the loft. I did.
I moved in three days before Christmas. A friend drove down from upper New York State to help me with the move. The night before the movers moved me we slept in sleeping bags in the loft.
The first year the builders kept a steady pace of building building after building. Sometimes it was eerie coming home after dark and driving on a nondescript road until I reached my building. We were a small group of homesteaders for months.
In January I met Dorothy and we spent a year going back and forth between Maynard and Cambridge. It didn't take long after she moved in for us to rewrite the deed so that we both owned the unit. I do recall the paper trail for that.
Thirty-two years later and we're seated across the table from Lucy who has bought our unit. She had been looking for a year and her agent told us that as soon as she entered the house she knew she'd buy it. The house, Lucy told the agent, felt as if it had a spiritual center.
That's good.
The ad for new condos appeared in Sunday's paper and I cut it out and circled the opening. I decided I wanted to live there when I saw the unit. The first building on the right as you came in. It was one of fifteen six unit buildings. Except for the model unit the other five units in that first building were available.
I walked into each unit and went upstairs to the room facing the conservation land and visualized my Selectra electric typewriter on its table in front of the window. Would that be a good place to write and the unit I bought just felt perfect.
By that afternoon I wrote out a five hundred dollar check to hold the unit until I could bring some people to look at it. I brought my friend Mary's husband, Fran.
Fran, who bought old homes and fixed them up, spent an hour going over everything and gave it a thumbs up. I bought the house the next day.
Somehow the actual closing eludes me, but I recall picking out the counter color, tiles, and rugs. Save for one small upgrade I stayed within the allotted amount.
My real estate agent told me to spend the extra money and finish the loft. I did.
I moved in three days before Christmas. A friend drove down from upper New York State to help me with the move. The night before the movers moved me we slept in sleeping bags in the loft.
The first year the builders kept a steady pace of building building after building. Sometimes it was eerie coming home after dark and driving on a nondescript road until I reached my building. We were a small group of homesteaders for months.
In January I met Dorothy and we spent a year going back and forth between Maynard and Cambridge. It didn't take long after she moved in for us to rewrite the deed so that we both owned the unit. I do recall the paper trail for that.
Thirty-two years later and we're seated across the table from Lucy who has bought our unit. She had been looking for a year and her agent told us that as soon as she entered the house she knew she'd buy it. The house, Lucy told the agent, felt as if it had a spiritual center.
That's good.
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