I’m sitting here writing while a stranger walks through my house. As a South African, this is a nightmare we all often experience, but in this instance, it’s not the nightmare you might imagine.

The stranger, perusing my walls and treading cautiously through my halls, is here to give me a sentence of another kind; To buy or not to buy. You see, my house is on the market, and I have to sit here while strangers walk through it and approve or disapprove with pursed mouths and silent eyes.

I hate them all.

Not because I don’t like them, or because I don’t want them in here. I let them in and give them free reign to walk while I sit – but I am conflicted about selling because it will mean it’s finally done. This chapter is finally over. We’re finally going.

My big news is that my little family of 5 (Husband, son, 2 cats and myself) are relocating to the U.K. Hence the selling of the house. It’s been a lifetime in the making for me, having always wanted to live in the land of my Granny’s birth, but it’s been just over a year in the making for us as a family. A little over a year ago we made the decision, and started stacking the dominoes to lead us North. Not quite north of the wall, like my brother did when he took his family to Scotland, but to the Southern side of England. I am inherently a Southern girl, after all.

While I sit here and allow another stranger to wonder through my house, I realize that the huge heavy task of lining up all those dominoes over these past months, which felt like it would never end, is now done and ready. They stand proud, racked and stacked, dotted slabs of admin, all facing in one direction. Selling the house is going to be the momentous occasion that pushes the lead domino – and then there’ll be no stopping the effect.

While I am extremely excited about the new adventure, I am torn about the selling of the house. Because I love this house. I have lived in this house and found love in this house and gave to this house and made it a home. I have been here longer than anywhere else in my whole life, and I am quite chummy with the ghosts. We have good ghosts. But, now I realize, they were never my ghosts – they belong to the house. I will be very sad to say goodbye to this home and all the friendly ghosts.

Of course I’ll be taking the living with me, so if nothing else cheers me up when I cheers my final glass of red to the ghosts, there’s that.

But for now, while I sit here, while strangers walk through my house, I am feeling a strong sense of sadness to be leaving these happy haunted walls behind.









IMAGES: 1. Via pnew.us / 2. Via