Son called yesterday to see if he could come over in the evening and use our washing machine. He already bought one of his own, but it arrived damaged, and now he’s waiting for P.C. Richard to wow him with their customer service. The place the washing machine was delivered to was Son’s new house, which almost unbelievably, he bought last week at the age of 24.
I’ve written here about Son’s passion for real estate, and particularly our home, the house he grew up in. Whereas Daughter has mixed emotions about growing up suburban, Son recalls only the fondest of times, and has always expressed the wish to buy the place out from under us for a reasonable price. Putting aside Scarlett O’Hara’s crinoline and melodrama, Son is the child of mine who would grab a handful of dirt from the yard, hold it up to the Almighty, and proclaim he will never go hungry again. With a decent mortgage, that is.
Son graduated high school in 2002 and college in 2007, after taking a year off to do some internal housekeeping. Following his university graduation, he returned to our New York suburb and entered the work force with a vengeance, vowing to own property in town by the time he was 25. When we didn’t oblige him by moving out or passing on, he found a realtor, lawyer, and financial advisor, and accomplished it all on his own.
Son imparts information inscrutably. The first inkling I had that he was seriously involved in real estate negotiations was a one-line email that said, “Are your property taxes higher than those in the incorporated village?” It seemed a sale was imminent when my inbox asked, “Do you prefer Home Depot or Lowe’s for bathroom fixtures?” And the day after his closing, he left the message, “Do you guys have an air mattress?” He had decided to sleep in the house during renovation to keep an eye on progress.
If I close my eyes, it feels like yesterday I was cheering at Son’s basketball games, jumping to my feet when his three-pointer hit just before the halftime buzzer at the State Championships. Now he’s assistant coach for his own team. And I’m still cheering, albeit more subdued. I congratulate him for getting approved for a mortgage, managing a down payment, hiring two contractors and a landscaper, and doing battle with P.C. Richard. I say the words with quiet pride, but in my head, I’m standing.
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