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| Part of the view from the front step of my old house, taken many, many years after flitting |
There's a woman I know (slightly) who works in one of the shops in my local town centre and who lives in the same street as I did from 1960 to '64. Her family moved in either just before or just after mine, and as far as I know she's lived there ever since. This will be her last full day in the house as she recently sold it, and tomorrow she moves into a flat in another neighbourhood. Apparently, looking after the front and back gardens became just a bit much for her, which is what prompted her to consider downsizing to a smaller domicile without gardens.
I don't remember her from my time there, nor her me, but we probably saw one another running around the neighbourhood back in the day. It was only by chance, during an idle chat when I was in her shop one day, that I learned she stayed in my old street. What must it be like flitting from her family home after more than 60 years and starting all over again? As she's moving within the town, if ever she's back visiting friends, she'll likely pass her old house on occasion, which makes me wonder whether that'll make her miss living there all the more (if she does at all) or derive some kind of comfort from it yet being part of her experience, even if only an external one.
Are there any Crivvies who still reside in the house they grew up in, and would you be able to move elsewhere without suffering some pangs of regret that an era had come to an end after so long a period? I don't think I could handle such a move, and I've only lived in my current home since I was 13 and a half (not all my life), with a four year gap when my family moved to another neighbourhood before returning to our former abode, where we'd previously resided for 11 years. Any thoughts, theories, observations or speculations on this topic are most welcome.
