I love Christmas.
I really enjoy this time of year.
The excitement and build up.
I liked it when it was cold and snowy in the first 30 odd years of my life, and I have loved the past 17, in the hot hot Aussie summer. Pretending to tan on North Avoca and Terrigal beaches.
I even love the Christmas Carols. But more than all of that, I love the family time and the coming together and hanging out, eating too much, throwing away far too much gift wrapping, but all just being there. Stopping for just one day and breathing.
This year I have a very special person who won’t be there and its heartbreaking. It will be a different type of Christmas this year. Still a punctuation point to indicate we are at ‘that’ time of year, but maybe less joyous singing and more reflection on what we have had, what we have gained, who we have lost.
My favourite holiday is the American Thanksgiving because there is no stress of gift giving, its not religious at all, just a national holiday when the entire country stops and gives thanks for their lot, whether that’s spiritual, or financial, or the new relationship, or baby, or house.
And see, there?!… House. I did it. Houses. That’s what I am really supposed to write about. You probably don’t care much about my thoughts on family or Christmas and gifts. But houses?! Yep. That’s my area of speciality. I reflect on the houses I have been through this year. The reasons they sold. The people who were buying. The families who were selling and what it meant to them.
I sell lots of houses and meet all sorts, different ages, careers, length of time in the property but many of the home owners are quite nervous about selling.
I understand. You have to prepare for sale, finish the lingering jobs, the landscaping, the painting, keep it neat and tidy through the sale, sweep the paths, make the beds, what if someone doesn’t like it enough, what if NO one likes it at all, what if you don’t get enough money to take the next step, what happens if?…
And more than all of that, if you have lived in a house for many years, you worry about the memories. What happens to all those memories of Christmas mornings, parties and gatherings, babies being born then going off to college. What happens to all those feel good feelings – where do they go?I have sympathised and empathised with many owners over the years, including the 92 year old lady who recently moved from her home of 34 years, and reminded them that the feelings stay with you.
If you find you are stressed about selling your family home, don’t worry. The warm and fuzzy memories are stuck tight in your head and your heart and you don’t need an orange formica benchtop to help you remember them. Its terrifying but true. The memories are yours forever.
This year I am giving away the stress. Giving away the panic of not finding the right gift. Giving away the angst of insufficient food and trying to please everyone.
I am keeping my happy memories and enjoying my down time with family and friends.
I’m going to hang onto that image in my head of previous gatherings around our dining room table, that glow I feel when I recall the laughter and the funny stories.
I will give away the sadness of missing those who are absent, still raising a glass, and maybe shedding a tear, but remembering instead the giggles and the joy.
Whether you rent a one bedroom studio, or are lucky to own a 7 bedroom mansion. Remember whats important about it.
Houses are bricks and mortar. Its the people who make it into a home.
When you get ready to move on, give me a call to discuss how I can help make it as seamless as possible.