Signing the papers in the bank, we couldn’t help but giggle to ourselves. Emily and I were letting the bank know we understand the responsibility involved in owning a home, and that we were going to spend a sizable chunk of time during our day doing favors for others to pass the rewards to them. Interest, equity, insurance, escrow, terms that were new to me before, but are now as intimately familiar as any other. We left that day with a loan. A loan for a house. A house of our own. As staggering a concept as that seemed, we were beginning to realize we were about to become homeowners.
We spent the next few weeks complaining that the closing date was too far away, and planning on projects for the new house. First up was gutters. Then we had to strip and repaint the outside walls and shutters. Painting the interior was a must, including putting the doors in the hallway on the inside of the rooms.
Only not.
The stock market was spiraling out of control. Large corporations were going under. The government was doing the unthinkable and stepping in to actually purchase private companies. As the stone hit the pond, the waves went outward, touching everything. And in Avon Lake, in rented house where a young couple and their dog eagerly await the day they can call a place in America their own, the ripple hit there too.
The underwriters pulled out. At every bank and lender we tried they wouldn’t give us money. Uncertain times made for untrustworthy neighbors. We were plagued, untouchable to those that we needed to make a home for ourselves. ‘The American Dream’ would live only in our sleep.
We took a step back, discussed our options and are now moving forward in a different direction. It was a house that we thought would be perfect. We loved its virtues and adored the flaws. We dreamed of projects and improvements. We wanted to make our home ours. Even though that path is lost, we are still moving forward.
In a different direction, but still forward.
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