We lived here for twenty-two years and sold it in like the worst market possible. (Every time the Times ran a piece on how this fall, home sales were experiencing their worst slump in thirty years, I had a mini coronary at my desk.) I thought I’d feel more sentimental, since melacholy is my middle name, but in the rush, I haven’t had to worry about those feelings. Good bye old house! Good bye old memories! Good bye elementary school, junior high school, high school, ex boyfriends! Good football games at Bergen Catholic filling our lawn with high school trespassers! Our neighbor George is 82 years old, and when my mother went to say good-bye to him, he cried, which made her cry, and they both hugged. Poor things. He said we were good neighbors.
Where Dreams Really Do Come True