|Bink, in collar and tie. He's preparing for Escrow.|
That's the unsettling part of the whole thing--the sense not of losing the property, but of losing its meaning. This is the house where we started our marriage. This is the house where we dealt with the vicissitudes of California. It's filled with our meaning--things we did here. People we have over, movies we watched. Everything. And those meaning are about to emptied out.
My wife wants to take the front door with us when we go. It's unlikely this will be possible (the door is a statement piece; it has a complicated stained glass and wrought iron pattern on it) but I understand, fully, the desire. We want to retain something of who we were when we lived here.