The closing phase of life ideally includes time for reflection. Imagery of elders rocking on shaded front porches as they share stories of years gone by seem right, whether or not current society actually allows or encourages that. Terminally ill, albeit younger, I find myself reflecting more on my past, enjoying the memories.
But I have not enjoyed the past breaking through into my present this July. Instead of rocking, I was called to action – stressful action. Not only did I re-inherit my beloved houseboat, home during my late twenties, thirties and early forties but also it threatened to sink me. This glorious home that looks so wonderful was catastrophically ill below the water. There were other woes after almost a decade of no responsible parenting and constant movement on the river. I needed to sell and I decided I had exactly 26 days in which to do it. I was not going to pay August Moorage fees.
It led to a stressful month as my reasonable asking price became less reasonable as clarity grew that this home needed a buyer with $50,000 + for upfront repairs. I sold it today for $5,000 – a bitterly wrong sum. But I needed to be done with the stress of this house capsizing on my watch and then having a huge financial burden as it was salvaged from the river floor.
Living on disability during what someone called ‘my prime earning years’ does not make me flush. Commuting cross-country for medical care is an additional burden. (This clinical trial only covers actual treatment costs.) It would have been lovely, and appropriate, to sell this home for $89,000 or more.
But the stress is gone. And it is now August. I intend to return to some rocking with the best of memories as companions. Priceless.