Jenifer’s Journal: The path forward

Every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home. — Matsuo Basho

I wrote about my house about 18 months ago, giving a thumbnail sketch of our relationship over the past  42 years. 

We seem to have finally reached a place of love and acceptance of one another’s flaws and good points but neither of us is getting any younger.

The house is 122 years old and I’m not all that far behind at nearly 76. A year ago in May I spoke of hoping to somehow spend my dotage in my personal “this old house,” and now I’m quoting once again the updated AARP Home and Community Preference Survey from May 2021, that shows I’m not alone in terms of the desires and difficulties shared by many seniors: “There’s no place like home. A new AARP survey of adults shows that three out of four adults age 50 and older want to stay in their homes and communities as they age — yet many don’t see that happening for them.

“While 76% of Americans age 50 and older say they prefer to remain in their current residence and 77% would like to live in their community as long as possible, just 59% anticipate they will be able to stay in their community, either in their current home (46%) or a different home still within their community (13%) … many adults age 50 and older are willing to consider alternatives such as home sharing (32%), building an accessory dwelling unit (31%) and villages that provide services that enable aging in place (56%).”

Back in 2021, I’d begun to fantasize about adding what the survey refers to as an “accessory dwelling unit,” but what I saw as a cozy cottage nestled down in a cozy corner of my .97 acre of land — a little natural-shingled, two-bedroom house with a small porch, maybe, and some rambling roses climbing up the gate posts — just right for me and my two cats and an occasional friend or grandkid spending the night. In the meantime, my wonderful old house would finally be paying for itself as a summer rental and/or B&B and I would have, for the first time in decades, “options.”

We were in the shank of COVID that spring, and real estate values in this area had risen stratospherically. It seemed that I might be able to accomplish my dream with a re-finance.

By the time I got one, however, though I felt rich for about 30 minutes, it soon became clear that along with real estate values, everything else was more expensive, too, including surveys, construction materials and labor, and then there was the new septic system the town and state required, along with all manner of codes and regulations to fulfill, not to mention that if my old house was to become the cash cow it needed to be, it would require some fixing-up, as well.

Suddenly my new nest-egg funds looked a little meager. We researched all kinds of “cottage” options besides “stick-built,” from mobile to modular, but the answer was the same for all of them: too much.

By this summer, with my newly-inflated mortgage payment eating away at my cottage cache, my basement sprung a leak for the sixth time in as many months.

It was the height of the high season and at first no plumber even answered the strangled pleas I left on their voice mails. Suddenly, I was done.

I must’ve been mad to think I could pull this impossible dream project off. I called up my wonderful real estate agent forthwith and asked her how much she thought I could get for my house “as is” if I put it on the market. I was boggled by the number she gave me. 

Well, in that case, Jenifer, sell! 

I’d just put some legacy dough away for my kids and then, was free at last to go … somewhere. Then my agent — consummate professional and compassionate friend that she is — gently inquired, “Where would you go, Jenifer?”

And the fact is, if I want to stay near family, whether buying or renting, there’s no place that wouldn’t quickly eat through whatever profit I might make on selling my home.

I still don’t know what path I should take. Try to build? Or bail? Either way, I’ve still got to spruce up this old gal, so I asked one of our excellent local garden centers to make their magic happen. To my surprise they decided to start with the path we’d discussed, a handsome one of blue stone and brick that, for the first time in 122 years, actually leads directly to what is the official front door of One West Neck Road. 

Whether that path leads towards staying or selling, its direction is forward.