Waking Up and Moving On

The new owner can do whatever he wants with the tree stump outside the front door.

Yesterday was Christmas. As usual, being Jewish, it was meaningless to me. But one good thing about it was the total lack of traffic on the highway. That was terrific. My husband and I drove from southern Maine to New York's Hudson Valley with nary a truck on the road, no construction work and no unexplained traffic jams. It was smooth sailing all the way, and with everyone home opening their presents or eating plum pudding or worshiping the baby Jesus, we made the trip in record time.

Our mission was a sad one: closing down a dream. Ten years ago we bought a second home in a lovely rural setting that we thought might someday become our first home. A rambling old farmhouse on thirty acres of land, with a barn and a fish pond and woods as far as the eye could see, it offered us a welcome respite from the crush of urban life in Washington, DC. We spent the first few years working on it every chance we could. But somewhere along the line, random events changed our everyday reality. We moved to Maine and suddenly our regular life was just as relaxing (more, maybe) as being at our country getaway. Plus there was that long drive. We went there less and less, and finally made the hard decision to sell the place.

Now we're here to pack things up and wake up from the dream. It's sad to leave it all behind, especially the swimming pool. On the other hand, the next time a dying tree falls on the front lawn, we won't have to cough up $2,000 to chop it up and haul it away (and spend another $900 if we want the stump gone). And, as Mitch pointed out, now he's got some extra goggles for swimming at the Y.