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So, I haven't actually posted about what's going on in my life right now. Let me do that.
My grandmother died two weeks ago. It was just her time, and she's been in pain for a year, so the whole family is a bit relieved, but still missing her. She left behind some debt, so the decision has been made to sell her house. My brother expressed interest, but his fiancee veto'd and now I am looking into buying the house. It has been a nervewracking week, mostly because I'm nervous about the housing market going belly up and lenders denying loans like mad. The rest of the anxiety comes from something in the back of my head telling me there's an H.P. Lovecraft story that begins just like this.
The truth of the matter is that Nana was what tied the family together. Now that she's gone, I can't stand the idea of a stranger living in her house. It's a very modest house, but it's got a lot of memories for me. I spent a lot of time there. My mother, aunts, uncle, and cousin grew up there. I want my kids to grow up there, too. Ideally, I'd like to pass it on from generation to generation and make it something of an ancestral home for us. These days houses are more or less disposable and everyone wants to move into a huge McMansion somewhere on the edge of the suburban sprawl. I really don't want that. Maybe I'm old fashioned, but I want my children to feel like they're from somewhere. Even if it's Dundalk.
No. Especially if it's Dundalk.
My grandmother died two weeks ago. It was just her time, and she's been in pain for a year, so the whole family is a bit relieved, but still missing her. She left behind some debt, so the decision has been made to sell her house. My brother expressed interest, but his fiancee veto'd and now I am looking into buying the house. It has been a nervewracking week, mostly because I'm nervous about the housing market going belly up and lenders denying loans like mad. The rest of the anxiety comes from something in the back of my head telling me there's an H.P. Lovecraft story that begins just like this.
The truth of the matter is that Nana was what tied the family together. Now that she's gone, I can't stand the idea of a stranger living in her house. It's a very modest house, but it's got a lot of memories for me. I spent a lot of time there. My mother, aunts, uncle, and cousin grew up there. I want my kids to grow up there, too. Ideally, I'd like to pass it on from generation to generation and make it something of an ancestral home for us. These days houses are more or less disposable and everyone wants to move into a huge McMansion somewhere on the edge of the suburban sprawl. I really don't want that. Maybe I'm old fashioned, but I want my children to feel like they're from somewhere. Even if it's Dundalk.
No. Especially if it's Dundalk.
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If families are always rising and falling in America, I want my family to at least have a house. All that's left is for me to fix it up and perform a few rituals to ancient, forgotten gods on the property (which will be challenging, considering the yard's only like a quarter acre.)
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