And so, I am no longer the owner of the cutest little house in Yarraville. And even though settlement is not until early December I guess you could say I am homeless until my new shack is completed in October 2016.
At least the excavators have arrived and it's all on.
But it is a little scary to say the least.
But not quite as scary as Auction day. I don't think I knew the meaning of the word mental exhaustion until that day. Hopes were high and support from family and friends was overwhelming.
More than a few contracts had been handed out and the bidders 'were out there'. In fact 84 people in the street.
I should have held a sausage sizzle.
The night before the auction my friend Gigi told me to write on a piece of paper the amount of money I was hoping the house would sell for, and sleep with it under my pillow. I wasn't really sure if it was meant to be a "Dear God" letter but erring on the side of caution, mine was. I couldn't really stop at just a certain figure so I also asked God to watch over all my loved ones, named and unnamed on that scrap of paper. In the middle of the night I woke up and realised the letter was missing so I had to turn on the light and scurry around under the bed looking for it! I wasn't prepared to tempt fate. So safely back under the pillow it went.
And so it started.
But not one bid.
Which didn't have me concerned in the first 5 minutes or so.
Maybe it was the 2 glasses of red I downed at 11:30 am that took the edge off.
But 10 minutes later when there was still not one single bid the nerves began to set in.
And it was just awful. I was on the phone to my family in Qld who kept asking if any bids yet? To which I had to keep replying .. no .. any .. no .. any .. no ..
Heartbreaking.
We were all feeling more that a little unsettled.
And so the auctioneer declared the property about to passed in when one little voice piped up. A lone wolf who hadn't even inspected the property until that day. A youngish guy. As nervous as all get out. The bid was laughable, the property was passed in and the bidder was invited in to negotiate, as is oft the way. My lovely agent worked some magic, and trust me, I don't believe I have ever used the word 'lovely' before 'agent' in my lifetime, unless we are talking James Bond, but eventually an acceptable sale price was agreed on.
Jena.
She seems to have accepted it with more grace than we have.
Prior to last week the last time I saw her was around June. Of course we didn't know then that would be the last time we would see her so it was business as usual.
Jena is a non drinking non swearing Methodist. Who is offended by nothing. Which is just as well as around our lunch table there are no subjects left unexplored. Conversation is robust but we always make up before the bell tolls!
We have remained in touch with Jena through letters and cards and phone calls etc. but due to her weakened immune state and the fact that we have all had terrible coughs and colds, visits have been very few.
Last week the lunch door opened and there was Jena. The words 'shock of my life' probably sum it up as best as any.
Thin, fragile and wearing a beanie, but there she was.
Same happy smile and bright blue eyes.
And so we rallied. For Jena.
Jena had always regaled us with stories of her interesting life.
And that day she continued to do so.
Maybe she felt the need to get them out while she still could.
Being an archivist Jena's home was likened to a museum. The day she visited she bought in little bits and pieces that she wanted Firbank to have. She loved Firbank.
One piece was an antique metronome.
It was her grandparents, a French piece and it is quite exquisite.
As a child banging away at the piano I was always mesmerized by the metronome, and when I woke up at 3:00 am this morning listening to my wall clock tick tock I couldn't help but think of that metronome.
It is smaller than the more common variety. A little like Jena.
As she tired quite rapidly the time came for us to say our goodbyes. This time it wasn't business as usual. I walked her out to her car and try as hard as I could to remain brave I became a little emotional. Why hide how you feel anyway.
For what purpose?
I gave her a very long hug and all she said was 'it's fine sweetheart - everything is fine'.
The afternoon of the auction I came back to Brighton around 5:00 pm. I made a cup of tea and lay down on my bed. I was absolutely and utterly wrecked.
I was crunching numbers in my head until I fell asleep. When I woke up at 7:00 pm it was dark and I was SO exhausted I could barely move. I hadn't even taken my boots off!
When I listed the cutest little house in Yarraville on the market there were very few houses for sale. Maybe that was why I felt so positive. But by the weekend of the auction the numbers for sale had grown significantly and the prices were all around what I was hoping for. But most of these houses had been newly renovated and the cutest little house in Yarraville hadn't been. And even though it was cosy and comfortable and extremely livable - location was the major selling point.
Slowly I came to accept that my lovely agent really had worked very hard to fetch me a very good price. And as I went over and over and over this in my mind, I managed to drag myself out of bed, boots and all, boil an egg, boil the kettle and feel a little more at peace with the outcome and acceptance for the future.
I guess this is how Jena must feel.
I made a promise to Jena that as long as I was at school she would always be present around our lunch table. It is a promise I know we will keep.
"It's fine sweetheart - everything is fine".
That little metronome will be the beat of Jena's heart long after she has gone.
I have kept the letter I penned that night before the auction. To remind me that what will be will be.
It's in my bedside table.
And if you are reading this blog you can be fairly certain your name appears on that heartfelt letter.
Life is sometimes not what we hope for but the beat goes on.
And never forget that sometimes it is a lovely thing when your heart manages to skip a little beat along the way!
Jena passed away peacefully the day after I wrote this blog.
Her best friend was holding her hand.
