Kays House by the /sea

Kays House by the Sea

When I looked at the pictures on the internet, the house looked perfect. It was a small bungalow with two bedrooms, one and a half baths, a fireplace, a wrap-around porch, and most importantly, the glorious Pacific Ocean within walking distance. Unfortunately, all the information I could gather indicated there hadn't been any updates since 1965; neither had I, so it was fine. 

I met the Realtor one morning at the house. Her name was Jody, and she was all teeth and big blond hair. When Jody found out my age, she decided to speak in loud deliberate tones. It was insulting, but I was not surprised. Ignorance is not a new concept, but I didn't have time to engage her regarding this. I was focused solely on seeing the house and moving forward with my plans.

"Honey!" Jody squealed as I got out of my rental car at the house.

We shook hands and walked into the house. The porch and roof were in good shape, and I could hear the surf nearby, so I was off to a good start. All the finishings in the house were bright, unusual colors. The main bathroom had a pink toilet, sink, and bath, and the kitchen had avocado-colored appliances. Those would need to be replaced sometime soon. They were in good condition, but they were obsolete. I was used to having a modern aesthetic and couldn't imagine keeping them.

The house was on a dead-end street. Trees surrounded the lot around the front, of the house with several other homes that were close enough but not too close. Also, there was a clean, tidy well-made carport with a storage shed close to the home. The house had passed a comprehensive inspection a couple of months before. Like I said, I had done my research.

Jody gave me the go-ahead to look around the rest of the house on my own while she made phone calls from the kitchen. I'll say this for Jody; she had her own style.

Each room on the southwest side of the house had views of the ocean. It was a done deal as far as I was concerned. I saw everything I needed to. The house felt friendly and welcoming. The only thing left was the final details with Jody.

"Well, Honey, what do you think? Isn't she a beauty? I'll tell ya there's a lot of interest in this little gem."

Jody was still talking to me as though I was not a 72-year-old human; she was talking to me as though I was a deaf ten-year-old child.

"Thanks, Jody, for your help," I said in a soft, deliberate tone. I continued. 

"I have seen enough, and I've done my research, so I'm prepared to make an all-cash offer near the asking price."

Jody looked stunned. I suggested we meet back at her office and write up the offer. With as much care as I could sincerely muster, I told Jody I was not hard of hearing. In fairness, Jody seemed to understand. I actually found myself liking her. She promised to call me when the offer was accepted. We both knew there would be no problem with it.

That night, I stayed in a funky old Surfside motel close to town while I waited for the deal to go through. I lost just about everything in the last couple of years and was still reeling from my career ending the way it did, so having mindless, downtime was appealing. 

The sexual harassment case and abuse affected every part of my life. I had no luck trying to fix things on my own at work once the abuse began. I knew if I said anything officially, I would lose my job. Up until the events surrounding the harassment, I was skilled, knowledgeable, and respected. I lived fearlessly. Unfortunately, the harassment snuck up on me; it was insidious. I had to report it although it just about killed me. The emotional and financial damage I experienced left me completely broken. I was discarded and lost all my feelings of self-worth.

I spent the next couple of years couch surfing at my daughter's and sisters' houses. When I learned there had been a settlement in the sexual harassment case in my favor, I was surprised. Of course, no amount of money from my corporate jailers could erase the pain, humiliation, and emotional damage, but I was grateful it was over. It felt surreal to use money from such an ugly time in my life this way. 

Walking along the beach that night at twilight, I felt hope for myself and my future. 

The offer on the house was accepted. My daughters were thrilled for me and ready to help. I loved knowing my youngest daughter and her husband lived just a couple of hours away in the city. Everything was falling into place. It had been so challenging the last few years. I was no longer the eternal visitor, always in transit from one daughter to the next. I would finally have a home. 

When I got the keys to the house, I brought a sleeping bag and a coffee pot and moved in. I slept by the fireplace in the living room and ate hostess cupcakes to celebrate the first night.

My storage Pod would arrive in a couple of days, so I was ready. Unfortunately, I didn't have much in the way of belongings, just boxes of books, sheet music, and some linens. During my corporate career, I lived in the company furnished penthouse in Atlanta, so I never acquired much furniture of my own. It was a modern and sleek apartment with accents of white, beige, and chrome; ultra-modern and so beautiful.

The following day I decided to clean every wall and floor. The house deserved my loving touch. Jody offered me a double bed frame she was willing to part with. Her kindness reminded me how often I was wrong about people. In fact, the second night in my new house, Jody brought over delicious greasy cheeseburgers and a swell bottle of wine to share. We sat on the kitchen island and had a hilarious time talking about men, our fading beauty, and small towns. It felt like the shadows of the past were beginning to fade. 

The house itself seemed to embrace me as though the wrap-around porch gave me welcoming hugs every time I stepped outside. The pink toilet, sink, and avocado appliances started to grow on me; they look prettier every day, and just like me, they have a lot of life left in them. I've let my hair go gray, and I think it gets lovelier every day. My funky, cool appliances inspired me.

After the first week, my daily walks on the beach and sleeping with the sound of the surf made me feel connected to living. Having an actual bed made a huge difference too, and I have Jody to thank for that. She and her husband brought over the bed frame with a brand new mattress. There have been some glitches in getting settled, like replacing the hot water heater, but it was worth it and was a pretty easy fix. The service guy told me how much he liked the couple who lived in the house before me. He said the house always smelled like fresh-baked bread.

The rest of my story is still unfolding in small ways. I have a new friend in Jody, and my family is happy that I am finally in a safe, quiet place. When I look in the mirror, I love the person I see. 

The ocean is my daily comfort. My little house is filled with books, overstuffed comfortable furniture from consignment stores, and (drum roll please); my rescue dog named Bobby. I am fully invested in each day and how it unfolds. I don't feel like myself; I am new. There's still time. I'm living proof.