The Time I Killed a Beautiful Moment

This never happens. The buyer of a property never gives the seller a gift. But, here she was, handing them a painting of the house she was buying. It was their deceased aunt’s house and they were her care-takers. I typically insist on attending sale closings myself; “don’t worry about it,” I tell them. Despite my standard advice, here we all were.


With the painting in hand, he starts to tell the new buyer that they sold her the house because she was a nurse, just like his aunt. I can hear him fill up. He’s standing now, “We had higher offers, but you seemed like such a nice person.”


This wasn’t the first time she’d been told she was kind. Hand on her heart, she reassured them of her excitement for the home that she was looking forward to building, and all the reasons this place was already special.


The buyer’s attorney and I smiled at each other. I reassure my seller by tapping him on the hand.


“I know, I know. I’ll leave so they can finish.” He cleans his tears, breaths heavy, and begins to grab his coat.


“Umm Bob, I just need you to sign a few more things.”


He coughs a laugh. “After that! After that, you have something for me to sign!”


Yes, Bob. Yes I do.



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