Free From a Good Home

For those of you who have been kindly offering advice and making inquiries on my behalf, here’s the deal (or lack thereof…), when it comes to my house:

I have:

• Advertised extensively through word of mouth, email, and social media
• Contacted the human resources departments at Trent, Fleming, and PRHC
• Sent personal emails to every department at Trent that his hiring for the fall

…And everyone I know is doing the same thing on my behalf among their friends and colleagues.

I have not:

• Posted an ad on Kijiji or put a sign on my front lawn. I probably should. But I have a fear of strangers.

I have:

• Spoken with local property managers and real estate agents re: pricing and services

I have not:

• Made up my worried little mind.

“What are you asking?”

Well, let me put it this way.

My mortgage is $1000/month.

My property taxes are $200/month.

My insurance (with tenants) will be $100/month.

My storage costs will be $100/month.

My property manager will charge $100/month.

So, to break even, I need to charge $1500/month, not including regular maintenance expenses.

I listed for $1400.

I reduced the listing to $1350.

If my prospective tenant can manage the property him/herself and allow me storage space in my basement, I could go as low as $1150.

I would even go as low as $1000, for the right person.

And I dearly want “the right person.” Several have already come along, but sadly, they did not find 608 Charlotte Street to be “the right house.”

So, yes. I can hire Babcock & Robinson to find me a tenant (at the cost of a month’s rent). I can pay them an extra $350 to screen said tenant. I can clean out my house, put my stuff in storage, and waltz off to Africa, knowing that strangers are watching over the strangers in my house. I can take a financial loss on it for two years, knowing that in the long run I will come out ahead if I can manage to keep the investment. (Did you know that I only have nine years left on my mortgage? When I get back, there’ll only be seven years left. Seems like a shame to throw in the towel so close to the finish line…)

And, yes, I can sell. I can hire a real estate agent to show my house to a bunch of strangers when I’m not around. I can clean out my house, put my stuff in storage, and waltz off to Africa, with a whole lot of cash in the bank. The taxes will be simpler. Pretty much everything will be simpler. And then, when I come back, I can… what? Will I even qualify for a mortgage on my modest Moroccan salary? If I do, will I ever find a space that loves me like this one does?

And that’s what it comes down to, in the end: a space that loves, and is loved. What is the best way to honour that space in the midst of such a major life change?

Do I fly away, secure in the knowledge that I still have a home base here in Peterborough? Will that sense of rootedness be worth the financial and logistical hassles of being an absent landlord? Or will the house no longer feel like “mine” when I’m no longer in it? Will I imagine it changing the whole time I’m away, knowing that when I come back it will not be what it was when I left? And, more profoundly, that I will not be who I was when I left?

Or do I let the place go to some eager buyer, and say good-bye to it while it remains perfect and untainted in my mind? A clean break, you know. Leave with happy memories and enough money to venture forth into the world without starving myself. Trust that in two years, another space will present itself to me, either here or in that big new world that I’ll have discovered. Believe that I am strong and courageous enough to live in limbo indefinitely. Refuse to let my possessions dictate my life. Be free.

Free.  

This has been a healing house for me. A freeing house. I have been freer here than I have ever been before. And right now I’m feeling free to leave only because I know I am free to return. Truth is, I’m moving to a place I’ve never even visited, and I’m scared silly.

Keeping my house means keeping a lifeline. Letting it go means drifting away. Groundedness and aimlessness. Safety and spontaneity. Entanglement and liberty. Any one of these descriptors will work. Do I have a say in how it’s going to feel for me once the choice is made? Do I have a say in anything at all?

Well, you do. Now you know the nuts and bolts – what I’ve already done, who I’ve contacted, what it will cost, and what’s to be gained. You also know the emotional weight this place carries, and its symbolic, grounding value as I head into a netherworld of great unknowns. What do you say? What is it that my freeing house is freeing me to do?