Sometimes falling asleep with Tilly’s predecessor curled beside his shoes.
“Could we leave that chair where it is?” I asked.
“Of course,” she said.
I stepped aside.
She took the photograph.
During the next several weeks, Gabriella arranged showings and collected feedback.
Some buyers thought the kitchen needed updating.
Others disliked the narrow driveway.
One couple loved the backyard but wanted to remove the pear tree to install a larger patio.
I listened without taking any of it personally.
They were considering buying a house.
Not adopting my memories.
Eventually, Gabriella brought me two serious offers.
Both buyers had financing arrangements that needed verification, and both included normal inspection contingencies.
The stronger offer came from a couple who intended to renovate extensively.
The other came from a family with two young children.
Their proposed price was slightly lower, but the terms were straightforward.
I considered both carefully.
Gabriella didn’t tell me which to choose.
She explained the financial and contractual differences and let me decide.
I selected the second offer.
It met my needs.
And when the family visited during the inspection period, their youngest daughter spent ten minutes watching birds beneath the pear tree.
I found myself smiling from the kitchen window.
The transaction wasn’t finished simply because I’d accepted an offer.
There were inspections, paperwork, negotiations over a repair, and weeks of waiting before the closing.
During that time, I found a smaller two-bedroom condominium with an elevator, a sunny kitchen, and a balcony overlooking a quiet courtyard.
It was still in Chicago, near a library and a park where I could walk Tilly.
The building permitted small dogs.
That mattered.
