On Buying a New House

“We want to be near the Swamp Rabbit Trail,” we said to our realtor 18 months ago when we started looking seriously for a house to buy in Travelers Rest. Everybody else, it seems, feels the same about this public amenity that is so important to the economic and social life of our community. A 23-mile trail through the heart of Greenville, with spurs going off in every direction.
So, we found a house, a brand new house, just two blocks from the trail. And we bought it, closing last Friday. They handed us the keys—four shinny bronze keys—to open the front and side doors. Except they didn’t! We discovered that within hours, and it wasn’t until a lock smith arrived on Saturday morning that the house was available to us. And it wasn’t until Monday afternoon late that good keys were delivered.
Not the best of beginnings, to be sure.
But we are well prepared for the ending. Right next door to our small housing development is the local Hospital and emergency room. Handy for times of need, including, I suppose, the end time.
And right next door to that Hospital and even closer to our new home is another cluster of buildings: a long-term care facility with, praise God, a memory care unit. Which means that when the time comes, it is a pretty impressive itinerary from our home, to the hospital, to the nursing home, to the dementia unit!
Jan and I have joked many times about taking each other to, well, the Home. As in, following some age-related gaffe, “That’s it. Get in the car. You’re going straight to the Home!”
Now, I am hoping that time is yet a good many years away. But the longevity experts tell us that vim, vigor, and vitality fall off beginning at exactly my current age. I am sensing that truth every evening when I start toward the bedroom about 8 o’clock, always thinking about all those weekday evening church meetings I planned and led for elected leaders sometimes twice my age. Of this, I have repented many times.
We have started making this new house our home: painting walls, filling closets, and placing furniture where it needs to be. It suits us nicely, and we hope to be, in three weeks or so, “ma in her kerchief and I in my cap just settled down for a long winter’s nap.” We are pleased with all the amenities: those we knew about, like the trail and the gas stove in the kitchen, and those we barely noticed, like the Hospital and nursing Home within walking distance of the house—no ambulance needed.
Then this, the ultimate stop, on life’s journey.
Across the road in front of the Hospital and the Home and a mere two blocks from the now unlocked front door of our new house, sits that which naturally follows the house, the Hospital, and the Home—the Cemetery. In this case, Grandview Cemetery (the Google map says, 8or Mountain View Memorial Park, the sign on location proclaims).
No, it is not as impressive and important as the Lexington Cemetery where I have hoped my bones or ashes might find their final rest. But it is close, and that counts, and it is a steady reminder that what is coming, and that counts, also.
Until then, we will enjoy all the amenities of our new house, those that we knew about and those we have discovered. So today, I will walk from our new house, between the Hospital and the Home, to the Trail that runs the entire length of the Cemetery and 23 miles more. I can turn south and head toward Furman University and the Town Center, or I can turn north and head to where the Trail ends abruptly, stymied by landowners who refuse to sell. Oh, well.
Cheers!