Pending

The time of anticipation. The time of wait-and-see. The gibbous, unbalanced, salient and giddy moments before the event: things are pending.

I've spent the last 6 months working to close a property in Scheller. 4855 N Scheller Lane: see the Virtual Tour here --

http://www.visualtour.com/applets/flashviewer2/viewer.asp?t=2907334&sk=1

I have a personal connection with this property...it was the home of some very close friends of my daddy's, Andy and Martha. Daddy would have been 90 this past April had he lived. Daddy was younger than Andy and Martha by a few years.

Their daughter's name? Rosie -- not me -- the woman who babysat me, baked me cookies and made sure my hands were clean. My youngest son, Andy, is named for the man who built this house. Close friends of my dad's? Yep.

They built the garage first and lived there while Andy picked up a trowel and, with some help, built Martha's house, brick by brick. The pines out front? They were less than my height when planted -- I remember because I was there -- and I've been trying to sell this house since Martha died in 2009 (Andy predeceased her by several years).

Martha had her brick house. Meant to outlast her, withstand any fury mother nature could dish out, with 4 cisterns so she'd never, never, never run out of water, Dammit.

Her granddaughter inherited the place and I was tasked with selling it. And a task it was...because I truly believe Martha walked beside me sniffing out every nuance of potential buyers. Nixing the deals until a buyer met with her approval.

That house had to go to someone who not only loved it and appreciated it but someone who met Martha's standards:  Someone who could tell a good story, play a good game of cards, laugh loud at themselves, fill the house with loud friends, obnoxious relatives, arguments, opinions, regrets, redemptions but, above all, love.

Someone who could hold their liquor but not their tongue. Someone who could not only dish it out with righteousness and sass then was big enough to take it and take it with dignity and class.

It was a hard act to follow. With many not making the cut, I knew I'd found a winner when he lit a cigarette just outside the garage. A veteran of two tours in Iraq, this buyer knew to stand into the wind blowing away from the house -- which he did -- not a whiff of smoke should have come into that garage. But it did, just one little puff, almost like it was inhaled by the house;  I knew right then and there the heavy-smoking Martha had made her choice.

My buyer, a war veteran, a single father, has had hurdles to leap and challenges aplenty. But I knew Martha was pulling for him. And anyone who knew her, knew she usually got what she wanted.

We hope to close on Father's Day.