This house, happy sigh. You might know the feeling of finally belonging somewhere? I’ve never felt that in a home. A house was always something to trade-in, trade-up. It was dispensable. Something to help you get along in life, definitely a place to rest and live, but never get too comfortable. The future was always nearer than our present – always looming with change.
I have, um, moved a few times in my life. Just a few. And this last move? At a meager 28 years old (technically with more moves than my years under my belt) this last move felt like the first right move.
Our very first home as a married couple was also the right move, but a lifetime ago. My first experience of living on my own – my first bit of adulthood freedom. It was glorious – she’ll always hold a special place in my heart. But that house held the memories of the phone call that told me he was gone. It held our first year of marriage secrets, fights and fits, it held job losses and change and positive tests. That house couldn’t hold us for very long, so she let us go.
And little did we know after that little house, we were on a wild journey. It took 6 years of thinking, fretting and planning to realize we were starting – but away we went. A huge curve ball in our lifestyle, a new dream to freedom. We became a debt free family.
This is still something we live every day – we just don’t talk about it as much. We reached our goal – and there’s a shift in thinking when these zeros on a page that dictate your every move all of a sudden add up to zero. It doesn’t loom over you anymore, you no longer think about it night and day. The graphs and spreadsheets look less angry and you start to notice the color of the sky … which happens to not be grey and black and stormy.
So… this house. We’re making it our home. The work has started and I am by no means, whatsoever, a decorator or professional – I have friends who are and they’re amazing and probably scoff at half the things I do, but thats ok. I’m not looking for professional. I’ve made bad design choices, I’m sure. But I make my own choices. I just like it that way.
My Pinterest boards are full of inspiration (trendy or not) and bold ideas. I’ve always stayed safe, maybe even boring, when redoing houses before. Always thinking of resale. Tan, beige, matchy matchy. But not here.
I want bold prints and patterns. Bling, lux and maybe a little so-ugly-I-can’t-believe-she-did-that.
I don’t want more, infact I want less. I don’t want “right now” – we want “forever”.
So we save our pennies, we get opinions, we wait. Then we go.
And I suppose if it takes us the rest of our live’s to make every nook and crannie of this house a completely lovable, lived in, wildly open, always cooking, harvesting home … well, then I’m going to love every single bit of it.
And I hope they fall into the cracks of comfort, the unforgettable and knowing pattern of this house. The creaks and secret hideaways. I hope they’re making a map of this house with their footprints and crumbs because this house is making a world for us to live in.
A world where we all finally fit.
[More on this house? Let’s discuss the porch and making signs. How about subfloors or tearing down walls and obsessing over Pinterest. Take that one step farther. And we can discuss the basement briefly, too.]