SOLD OUR HOME. BEACH HOPPING

“This sale is historic,” our realtor said.

Flashback a few months. 

Ontonio and I are in Paris, pouting about returning to Alabama, when we made a Kadine-and-Ontonio decision.

Some might call it crazy, but that’s what I absolutely love about US. 

Anywho.. 

It is a perfect Parisian evening. 

We are sitting on the balcony, sipping wine, filling our eyes with life in a very different context. Just below us, hand-holding lovers saunter by, cheerful teenagers laugh loudly, and a braless woman astride a bicycle rides by, in heels. 

Daylight surrenders to nightfall. 

Lanterns, lining the street, flick on, as do the lights beaming through apartment windows. 

Ontonio pours more wine. We raise our glasses and cheer: 

“Here’s to selling our house.” 

After a delayed flight, an eight-hour plane ride, and a seventeen-hour drive from New Jersey—the song, Sweet Home Alabama played melodiously in my head. 

We exited the highway, drove onto Hope Drive, and the idea of selling our home slipped into the back of my mind. 

Maybe it was wine talking on that picturesque Parisian night? How could we sell this house?”

It’s a beautiful four-bedroom, three bath house on the golf course. Plus, I was so exhausted, I thanked God for my beautiful bed and slid under the covers.

Two years prior, we met our realtor at 8 o’clock at night. I immediately imagined us sitting on the large front porch sipping our morning coffee and enjoying our evening wine. 

I prayed our offer would be accepted.

We moved in, unpacked in two weeks, and left for our one-month stay in Italy.

Upon our return, the house greeted me with warmth and I remembered a distant quote, “a home will hug you.” 

Our home bear-hugged me when I came back from Paris.

I circled the house and took note of the yard — the gardenia bushes, the pear tree we planted the year before, and the orange and grapefruit tree already bearing fruit. 

The ornamental banana tree, the jasmine arches I dressed in Christmas lights, the thirty plus stepping stones, and the swinging bench hanging on the limb of the tree. The magnolias had grown several inches, so had the blueberry bushes, and the herbs in the garden.

 I brushed acorns off the bench, swung back and forth and reminisced on the memories we made in this house. 

The following morning, I placed the Bistro table and chairs back on the front porch. I dressed the table in white and enjoyed coffee with my lover — my amoureux if you’re feeling French. The red headed finches chirped above our heads, as though they were saying hello. 

When we first moved in, I noticed the two nests on the end columns of the house. It seemed the finches and I made a home for our offsprings at the same time. I had watched them gather twigs, grasses, and leaves to build their homes. 

I placed the couches just so, plates in the cabinets, and hung family photos and hubby paintings on the wall. 

The birds brought food home and five featherless finches opened their mouths for a feeding. I watched tiny birds learn to fly, as our oldest child flew thousands of miles away from home to study abroad in Seville, Spain.

After a few weeks of rest, Hubby and I were sitting on the front porch, just as we had in Paris, when we knowingly looked at each other, and said it’s time. 

We called the realtor.

She came out the next day. The photographer came out three days later. The photos went live. 

The offer came two days later… 

and we knew, our time in Alabama and our house was coming to end. 

We packed our belongings in storage and it’s been a month now that we’ve living out another Christie Family dream. We’ve been beach hopping. 

We spent the first couple of days in Orange Beach. The afternoon we arrived, I opened the curtains and the cool breeze kissed my cheeks. 

Hubby and I formed a new ritual. We went to the sauna, took an early morning swim, then walked to greet the sun.