It's a quiet night in a house I've lived in for a long time now. The new rules for what can happen with this property, and every other property, make it feel like a place that is temporary. I'm not sure I want to invest any more of me here.
My parents are moving into a new place in Lynchburg, beginning a new adventure. It's an incredibly exciting moment, but packing up the old house is making me feel at home in a way that I sometimes feel here.
Yet, one of my cats is nestled up on a small table I've put by the window so they can jump up. They're getting older now and the leap is more of a struggle than it used to be.
But they won't be here forever, and I have to plan for whatever I have left. Being in my parents' new space for the first time has opened up a door in my mind to what I might do next.
Wherever I move next, it won't be Charlottesville. Aside from work, there's nothing here for me. All of the places I used to go are gone, and the ones I go to now will go, too. Nothing lasts forever, so it's not worth hanging on.
In the near future, someone can knock down by house and build six units. I can't do that. But I am thinking of setting a price for what I think I can get and then use whatever comes in fund whatever happens next.
Fifteen years is a lot. And right now, I need to replace a lot of things . But why bother when someone can put six units here? Six units within a 15 minute walk to the UVA hospital, if that. On a park. By an indoor pool.
None of these things are enticing to me. I don't feel like I have any more life left here. Work, sure. But not life. I don't fit in here. I did for a while, maybe, but nothing here feels right.
I am not making a move this moment, but the new zoning map makes me think I want to get out while I can.
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