It's been a long time coming, but tomorrow morning, I'm gonna be signing the final paperwork to sell my old house. I bought it back in 2017 as part of a project to set up a trans housing collective (I might try to write about that soon, but it's a whole thing). Even though everyone but my wife and I had left by the spring of 2021, the cleanup took until earlier this summer, and nearly 2 months to actually close. I'm glad this is finally over.
I signed the listing agreement for my old house today. I should only need to keep the grass cut for the next two weeks, and then I will be done with this whole thing.
We tried for 4 years to build a community, and to live and work collectively, but even by the time COVID hit, we'd already overextended ourselves. We were in the middle if lining up refinancing and a contractor to do badly needed remodeling, but then COVID stalled that. We never recovered, and eventually decided it was time to give up. It took another 18 months to fully move out, repair, and clean.
Yesterday, I learned that a close friend, who had lived with us there for 4 years, had suddenly passed. It was a shock, and comes at a very strange time for me personally, and for so many people that I know here. I am left with a lot of unresolved feelings. Our friendship grew out of our experiences at that house, and was challenged by other experiences there.
I'd always hoped that finish with that house would bring me a sense of relief, but it is probably much healthier to be forced by circumstances to mourn it too.
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