~just like Michael~

I was doing pretty well yesterday at the closing of my house back home in Hutchinson.  The night before last I went into the house one last time and made the rounds.  I checked on a few things, loaded up what little was left to take back, made the rounds one more time and then I knew it was time to go.

For good.

I looked back one last time at the living room where so many wonderful things have happened since 1982 and I reached up my arms to the heavens and said to my folks.....

"Mom and Dad, it's time for me to go.  I took care of everything just like you would have wanted me to.  It's been a good house but it's time to say good-bye now."

And with that, I shut the door and locked it behind me.

I got to the title office on Main Street earlier than I was scheduled to Monday morning.  They brought me back to the room where we would finalize everything.  I signed a couple of papers and laid down the 4 keys that needed to be turned over to the new owner.  With that, I was done.  

I met the new owner right outside in the waiting area and we introduced ourselves to one another.  He's a nice man and I could tell just by his handshake that he will take good care of my old house.  That made me feel much better about the whole thing and with that, 15 minutes after I arrived, I was ready to head back home to Texas.  

 I was doing pretty well.  I didn't feel like crying or being sad or anything like that.  I was kind of worried about that happening, you know?  A  lot of fine memories were made on East 14th Street and I couldn't help but feel a tinge of sadness in my heart.

I headed out the door and ran into my realtor, a fine young man named Michael.  We greeted one another with smiles of relief that everything worked out ok.  But it was then that I felt the lump come up in my throat and I choked back a few tears that wanted to fall.  I realize now today, over 24 hours after it all, that the tears I felt coming up were not tears of sadness for selling the house.  They were for something totally different.

I've known my realtor Michael since he was a little tiny 6th grader back at Haven Grade School in Kansas.  I met him my first year of being a teacher there in 1979 and I remember him fondly for being a nice little boy with a happy smile.  I've kept in contact with him and his dear sister Amy during the years that followed.  They still call me "Mrs. Miller" from back in those days and I always figure they will.  When I wanted to list my house, it was Michael who stepped forward and emailed me saying he would help me to get it listed and sold.  

And that he did.

Less than a month after the process began, it was done and taken care of.  

When I met Michael outside yesterday morning, I realized just how much of my life has already been completed.  To think that my realtor was once my 6th grade student caused me to stop and to remember.  The tears that I wanted to shed were not ones of sadness or despair.

They were tears of joy and pride in that "young boy" who is now a grown man.  With a thankful heart, how happy I am that I have lived long enough to witness this experience.

I've been a teacher for 38 years now and it's been my privilege to see my students grow up, get married and have families of their own.  They have become doctors and nurses, firefighters and police officers, teachers and lawyers, construction workers, the best cashier that Walmart ever had, and oh yes, they have been something else.

They have been realtors.
Just like Michael.

He's one good kid!  Of course though, I could be biased.  I was his teacher after all :)