It's a funny thing, blogging.
I look at you all as my friends. We may not talk much or know each other outside of our blogs and I'm terribly horribly awful at answering emails, so you may not even feel my love. But, I promise, it's there.
Throughout our entire house ordeal, I am embarrassed to admit that I thought of you often. I included you in staging the house when we listed it 105 years ago. I ran to you with our first offer. And the second offer. And when that fell through, the third and fourth offers. Then when we finally went into escrow, I had to sit on my hands to keep from rushing to the internet and telling all of you before we knew it was official. Maybe it's my overblown sense of self-importance, but I really felt like you would care; that you would rejoice with me.
And you did.
Then, when things looked bleak, I ran to you for strength. Strength from every single one of your comments and emails. I would hit publish and I knew within hours I would be buoyed by your positive thoughts, your jokes, just your being there.
The tough part is that I started to feel an obligation to you. An obligation to deliver good news. An obligation to give you a happy ending.
Two weeks ago when we found out that the buyers' loa*n fell through, six hours before we were due to close escrow, one of my very first thoughts was "I can't bear to tell the internet this. They'll be so disappointed."
As I watched Chris struggle to try to keep it together that afternoon, I decided that I couldn't share this story any longer. It was never just my story. It was his too. And he had been humiliated enough. We had been humiliated enough.
So, please understand that I just could not talk about it anymore.
I struggled for days with how best to handle the situation. I knew that no matter how the story ended, one day I would share it with you. But, how could I move on from the subject for the time being without being dishonest?
So, I cryptically posted "Closed". And those of you who smelled something fishy filled my email inbox letting me know you wouldn't be put off so easily. "Chapter closed good? Or chapter closed bad?" one of you asked.
I know that this is my blog; my story. I have been writing publicly for two years and lord knows, I have held back very little (much to my mother's dismay). I also know that I could shut it down tomorrow and you'd forget about me five clicks later, but that's not the point.
The point is that you're not a writer if you're not honest.
I was honest then when I said the chapter was closed because it was closed to me. I couldn't allow myself to cry about it, to talk about it, to think about it, to write about it. Any. More.
And I am honest now when I share with you that we did in fact finally close escrow. We closed yesterday. And now we can all truly put this behind us.
When my realt*r called yesterday with emotion in her voice and said wearily "It's all over. Escrow closed" I felt such profound exhausted relief that I can move on. Both in my writing and in my heart.
Thank you for being you, internet. I couldn't have done it without you.