When Rich and I moved to Norway, his company sent us some forms and paperwork and asked us, "Ok, so when do you want to sell your house?" I was completely floored by their suggestion, as I had never even the slightest thought about doing so and their assumption that we would took me totally be surprise. There was just NO way in HELL I wanted to sell our house. It's my home. And that is that. End of discussion.
This article explains really well how I still feel about that issue. (International Herald Tribune At Home Abroad routinely carries great articles specifically aimed at expats of all countries. It's a great resource for news and a sense of understanding, that there are indeed other people in my same situation, no matter how odd a duck I might feel at times.)
That little house in a funky part of Austin is my anchor to home and friends and family, and if I ever lost it or sold it while out here, I would feel completely adrift. I don't really care how much of a pain in the ass it is to rent it or take care of issues from far away, it's my security blanket and source of comfort. No matter how pear shaped things might get (not that they are, but they COULD be) I always have a place to retreat to. An escape. Something real and physical that will always be there for us, as long as we wish it.
My little piece of home in Texas. So nice to know it's there for me.
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