The Loveliest

This morning I called the renovations place to clarify about some dates so I could in turn book flights, request cat care and ask my boss to put me on the schedule for some work days. I did all of that. The cost of airfare is shooting up. It seems to me that I have often paid $500 or so for the round trip from SFO to DTW and back, and later on maybe $800 or so. Today’s $1400 was rather stunning, the highest ever. I made a note to try to figure out how to make this less expensive, maybe flying on other days of the week or even changing to a different airline. Maybe Delta and I are no longer good for each other.

The owner of the window washing place and I were also going back and forth this morning by text about the color to use on the deck, which has been a complicated process. I got dressed for the big event in my fanciest possible outfit: exactly what I always wear, which is a navy t-shirt and baggy cotton pants with an elastic waistband, but today I also wore the watch that is like my mother’s and I wore a heart-shaped necklace that contains the ashes of both parents.

I rolled over to the title company increasing the volume of the Carcass at key moments and throwing Devil’s Horns out the window occasionally. I figured whoever was behind me could see my license plate and would understand that this is just what a metalhead does when in a sprightly mood.

The title company office was not like any office I’ve ever seen before. Many offices are gorgeously decorated and / or advertise proximity to great wealth, but what was unique about this one was the feeling of generosity and abundance and pleasure. I’ve never seen so many different things set out for people to take in a restroom as there were in theirs, and in the office itself there were lots and lots of things made out of crystal or china. It was like the actual home of someone extremely hospitable, with multiple vessels full of candy, and homemade cookies on a platter. Just kind of everything and lots of it, sort of like a Louise Penney novel. I wish I’d had just five minutes to look around and take in more of the details. I told one of the women at the front desk that maybe I’d better buy this place instead.

I was offered something to drink. I asked for water and assumed I would soon be handed a little plastic bottle, as at my attorney’s office, but someone brought an actual cut crystal glass with water in it.

My realtor was waiting in a windowed conference room. She also appeared to be in a good mood, and she was actually dressed up, for which I thanked her. There was also someone from the title company. Before we began with the paperwork, I explained that I am a hospital chaplain and asked if I could have a couple of minutes. Then I prayed in the title company’s conference room: offering gratitude that I and my realtor and the title company lady all woke up again today on this lovely if humid day; that we were able to get out of bed without assistance; that maybe we even found our favorite food in the refrigerator. I offered gratitude to everyone who got me to this day: my parents, first, last and always; the friends who listened to me agonize for months; my co-workers and my boss; my sister who has been wonderful and the one who the other day hardened my determination to buy this house. I asked for forgiveness from anyone to whom I caused pain or irritation during this process with my words or actions or failure to speak or act: I’m sorry. Please forgive me.

And I offered the hope that the house will be a place of peace, happiness and refuge for anyone who enters it, and that every sentient being in the universe may be safe and protected and feel safe and protected, and that each may be loved and cherished and feel loved and cherished. The title company lady said, “Amen.”

Then I signed my name 10 or 15 times. I had brought the routing and account numbers for the trust’s checking account, which will receive the proceeds of the home sale, but I hadn’t known to bring the trust’s taxpayer ID number and had to call the attorney’s office for that. Our paralegal didn’t answer and I had never gotten the phone number for the actual attorney, since I always communicate with the paralegal. I tried calling another attorney I had worked with earlier on. Someone who is probably that attorney’s paralegal answered and soon dug up the needed number.

The title company lady asked if an electronic copy of the paperwork would suffice; I said I would welcome that, but would also love to have a printout for myself, as their printer is probably better than mine. In about 30 seconds, someone handed me that and said the electronic version had been emailed.

I then drove out into the country to the office of the renovations people to give them a deposit check, passing not far from where my parents ended their days. On my way home I thought about how I had once pictured various bits of useful knowledge going to waste, like which lane to be in when approaching a given intersection, but now they won’t go to waste. I had assumed that one day I would box up my stuff, ship it to San Francisco, depart, and come back only to visit.

My other sister had requested a copy of the closing paperwork. I took a look at it before emailing, trying to anticipate where the possible points of contention could be, and immediately saw a missing piece of information and a line for a date with no date written above it, etc. I knew what the reaction would be, so I called the title company to see if they could fix all these little things. Not five minutes later I had a perfect copy of the whole thing, and sent it off to my other sister.

My dear Seattle friends and I had our regular video call, which was most enjoyable, and then I took a walk. It was not a very nice afternoon. It was overcast and humid and it smelled smoky outside, even though the app said the air quality was fine. I have almost always just taken my parents’ customary walk, but now that I’m trying to get those seven thousand steps in, I’m ranging farther afield. Doing the regular walk twice would do the trick, but that would be kind of boring, so I’m seeing a lot of houses I’ve never seen before. I arrived back at my house and was astonished and pleased to see that, of all the houses I passed, why, this is the loveliest!