Originally looked like this:
...as in I had it uploaded and typed out and was just waiting for the confirmation from Peyton to post it.
Is it the prettiest brownstone in Brooklyn? No. But it's the one I thought was going to be our and it felt like, for so many reasons, a perfect fit for our family.
I'm going to blog about the whole process, but this was the hardest part. We thought we had it. We had negotiated down to a price we were comfortable with, had the cats okay'ed, and were first in line for it. It felt done and I saw it being our home.
We found out the next day that because we have children we weren't going to get it. Peyton sent a polite email to the landlord reminding him that the same law that protects black people and Jewish people was also created to protect our children. Even though ethically he didn't think what they did was wrong. You know, being a Libertarian and all. But we knew we had lost it.
I was so deeply disappointed. Honestly, it's been a long time since I've been so devastated and there have really only been a handful of times that I have. Even when I didn't get things I wanted- a part in a play or a spot on the cheerleading squad or whatever, I don't know that it stung this much. I know I've felt this way before when I was younger when I had relationships with boys go sour. The last time I felt something like this was I was pregnant with Graves and we thought, very briefly, we were going to lose him.
Obviously, that was a good bit worse of a feeling and I feel stupid as shit even making the comparison, but it really hurt so badly. I was so, so disheartened.
I think some of it was that living in a brownstone had become a big part of my New York dream and sort of a part of what I saw as my future "New York identity". I think, as I sought to find ways to claim this dream for myself, living in a brownstone living on a "sunny, tree lined block" as all the listings say became a big part of that. I told only Peyton and my closest friends this at the time, but part of me also thinks I got a little too caught up in the perception of things and in other people's opinions.
I wanted a cute place for people to come visit. I wanted to put pictures of the kids on a stoop on Facebook every other day. I wanted to live in the place my dad raved about when he saw the pictures. I agreed with everyone who swooned over the stoops on Instagram, even though it was completely illogical for our family in so many ways.
Ultimately, we gave it our best. We basically tried every listing for a brownstone in Clinton Hill/Fort Greene and even allowed ourselves to expand our search outside of the neighborhoods we've loved and been devoted to since August. And we were met with resistance at every turn.
I took about half a day to sort of mourn the loss of a dream and come to terms with it and I think I'm at a good place now. I know there will be days where I gaze at those brownstones and wish we could have that experience. But, there's so much to be thankful for.
First of all, I thought of something the other day. ANN PEYTON wasn't our plan A, but she was His. That sweet, precious little girl who saw me in tears and kept saying things like "We can wait for it, you don't have to cry, Momma" and then a few minutes later, "I really think we can find a pretty apartment". What beauty was birthed out of something that seemed to not fit our needs and desires at that point. And what a small thing this is compared to her precious life.
Secondly, as I said, the co-op is so very advantageous from a practical standpoint. It has elevators (as opposed to the two story walk ups we were seriously considering and the FIVE story walk up we entertained the possibility of momentarily). It's gated and has security guards and honestly, because of that I feel like is probably the safest place in Clinton Hill (which is not at all a "scary" area, but some parts I'd say are "edgy"). It's also...GATED, which is a huge benefit with a very active toddler. I won't be walking out my front door and being right on the street. My mom pointed out that maybe the Lord placed us here for Graves's protection. Additionally, we don't have the concern of trying to deal with space heater type things and the burns that could potentially happen. We have more space than we imagines and a really ideal storage situation. Also, LAUNDRY IN THE BUILDING. Hallelujah! Lastly, we don't have a grumpy landlord who dislikes kids. That's probably the most important thing to me. While I wanted to fight for that apartment we lost, I know ultimately I'd really HATE living in a place where people don't value children and families. I'd honestly be heartbroken to give my money to such a person. The co-op actually has CONCRETE walls and the other night I just really had to tell the Lord thank you for putting us there when the kids were still awake at one in the morning and were still pretty damn loud. I thought to myself maybe those brownstone jerks were right. They'd probably be better off renting to some drunk, fratty millenials than our preschool set. It may seem trivial, but I'm glad that in a time of HUGE transition and upheaval for my children, their volume level and subsequently their activity and excitement level won't be something I'm constantly asking them to change.
Thirdly, it's truly ironic we ended up in the co-op because back in August, we stumbled up on a block party that was actually put on entirely by the co-op for its residents. I think it's one of the first things that had us so enamored with the neighborhood and to this day; I think it was formative in our decision to live there. Sort of a full circle thing really.
Which brings me to my final consolation. I'm so thankful we found a place we could even afford in Clinton Hill. It's a pretty hip area and fast becoming out of our price range entirely. I think for a moment I lost sight of the fact that we weren't guaranteed any housing option in the eclectic neighborhood we so loved. And honestly, I became entitled and lost sight of how fortunate we are to even be living in this city, let alone our number one choice of desired neighborhood. It's all sort of humbling from that perspective.
And more than that, I get to have the experience of a lifetime with three of the most amazing people in the world. If it were four walls and a roof in Brooklyn and nothing else, I'd have much to be thankful for.
"In the days of despair you can grow hard
Till you close your mind and empty your heart
If you find yourself staring into the abyss
Hold tight to your loved ones and remember this
This shield will protect your sacred heart
The sword will defend from what comes in the dark
Should you grow weary on the battled field
Well do not despair, our love is real"
["This is Your Sword", a new Bruce favorite]
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