You Don't Like My House? The Emotional Journey of a Home Sale

We hired a new agent, Connie, who seemed aggressive. Every time she came by, I was near tears by the time she left. She thought we should drop the price. That was OK. The hard part was all the changes she wanted us to make. She and I spent at least an hour walking through the house, as she ruthlessly pointed out every flaw. I took notes on a legal pad.

The antique Chinese vases my father had given me had to go. There was too much furniture. It made the house look small. The counter tops needed to be replaced, and the exterior was begging for a paint job. Could we put the high chair in the attic? We needed flower pots on the front porch and a handyman to fix a million rough spots, like the discolored walls in the shower.

But she had noticed the French doors, right? And the hardwood floors?

Apparently not. Connie was all business, moving furniture and e-mailing me names of painters. She took down our personal photographs and suggested I store most of my favorite furniture elsewhere. Tony was fine with it; he wanted to sell the house for as much as possible, as fast as possible. I, on the other hand, walked around like a wounded animal.

Then, before the handyman had shown up, before we had agreed on a price with the painters, something cool happened. A house hunter called his wife from the living room and told her he had found their home. He loved it. She came to look at it, and they made an offer that night. She was expecting their first baby.

Maybe the reduced furniture made the house look bigger. Maybe he was able to envision his family there because there were no pictures of mine. Who knows. I was just relieved that a new owner would truly love this house. We bought the home we had been eying, and six months later, I am almost as attached to it. My toddler runs up and down the long hallway, and she shrieks with joy when her cousins appear at the front door, which is often. In our bedroom hangs a painting—a gift from a very dear friend—of our last house, with its front porch and blooming fence vine. I will always love that house.