Home identity crisis

I am having another home identity crisis. My ex and I had this house built for us. We intended to stay in it for five years, then move on after making a bundle on it. This area was exploding at the time. The cost of the house doubled in the five months from when we signed for it and we moved in it.

That was 1977. I am still here. When we divorced, I gave him the pharmacy, as that was his means of support, and I kept the house, to raise our child in. I wanted to give her the security and stability of growing up in the same home and neighborhood.

So I find myself here, with billions of memories, and way too many rooms to clean. Too much yardwork, too many major repairs need to be done. High taxes. Does a woman living alone need four bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, a formal dining room, and almost half an acre of landscaping? Plus the architecture is such that I have three flights of stairs to deal with daily. But the memories here - I find it hard to walk away from that.

I planted the trees that now shade my home. I brought some flowers from our first house that still bloom here every year. My daughter cut her teeth on my window ledges. Literally. The marks are still there.

But assuming it's time to move on, where do I go? Sometimes I think condo. I would love to give up yardwork. Having neighbors closer by might be nice. Big rooms, less of them, ranch style. But a whole wall with no windows?

Other times I think I want to live in the woods. Either option is available within 10 miles or less of my home. In the woods I can have peace, quiet, let my dogs out in a fenced in yard so they can sniff out some rabbits, maybe get a third dog. No condo rules.

Then I think about moving out of state, some place warm. Some place where no native there has ever seen snow. I have deep roots here, but I could tell myself to move to a condo or home in Florida, Las Vegas, or Phoenix for two years. My friends would visit. After two years, I could decide if I want to return to my frozen home city north of Canada or not.

If my daughter would agree to go with me, I think I would leave. As much as I crab about her antics, she is the love of my life and I would not leave her behind. Usually when I ask her to move away, she says no, not now. The last time I said let's move to Florida, she said, "What city?" Progress! This neverending winter is getting to all of us.