Last week, I showed a house to a prospective buyer. It was in North Berkeley on a great street. It is a large, 4 bedroom two bath house and is occupied by the owner of the house - or so I thought.
The house was dark inside - all the drapes, curtains and shades were drawn. It was pouring rain outside. A woman in her forties answered the door.
Once inside, a young boy - maybe six or seven years old was being his energetic self while his young father - perhaps early twenties - tried to get him to the front door so they could leave for their next destination. In the kitchen, a woman in her mid to late sixties was standing and staring straight ahead until we entered the room. I introduced myself and my clients. The woman in the kitchen attempted a smile, and I asked, "Where are you and your family going next?" - this is not an unusual question I ask of sellers. It is usually answered by a rather excited description of what they are moving on to - in this case, the woman said, "I don't know". She then said, "I was born in this house - my parents bought it when they were first married, and they raised four children here" and then she shook her head. They are losing the home she was born in, raised in, and raised her own family, and now grandchild. This is heartbreaking.
I have not been able to get them out of my mind since that day.
Monday, January 14, 2008
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