Quantum Disappointment

On my birthday, June 3, we heard that our deal for the house was nonviable. The mortgage underwriters had studied the appraisal and in combination with their own valuation metrics had determined that even after the listed repairs were made, the home would not be worth the asking price. The only hope that remained was that the seller could reduce the price to agree with the appraisal: a forty thousand dollar concession but still we held a candle.

A couple of days passed. We jumped through some more financial hoops and then got the call on our way into Pavilions. The deal was dead. Fredd sank down onto the black painted bench outside the store to wait with our little dog whose white tail seemed to be waving surrender.

Routine guided me through the grocery aisles and Denial carried the three of us back the apartment and the cardboard boxes. We laid in bed for hours, our heart filleted, unable to lift our limbs.

People typed condolence emails and posted kind facebook messages. One friend said it was like a miscarriage. Having had a miscarriage, I would have to agree with her. You wrap your decisions around a life with a home of your own the way you would for a child of your own. You prepare in good faith. You pick out colors, buy the crib, and knit a blanket expecting you’ll need it.

"Everything happens for a reason.” The idea that intelligence is somehow guiding the minutia of my circumstances has, over the years, seemed less and less likely. But today, June 16th, we are once again about to open escrow on a lovely home that we are very excited about. It’s got style we didn’t think we could afford. It feels to us like a loft on the ground, literally nestled in our beloved Reseda. While small set backs keep popping up, we’re hoping “the next leap will be the leap home.”