On December 23rd, two days before Christmas and right smack-dab in the middle of all the holiday hoopla and ward-splitting craziness, Dave and I bought a house…
…two weeks after the idea planted a seed in our minds.
Two months later I’m still a little bit shocked that we did it, and did it so darn quick.
You see, we have been looking for a place to build for a few years.
I should really say Dave has been looking, because I’ve personally been hanging on by my fingernails to life in general and although the thought of building is alluring, I’m not a quick decision-maker and I think building a house would be the end of me.
So we bought one that we are going to do a few things to in order to make it “ours.”
(That’s right after we bought it with title in hand…that smile on my face is actually a little bit dazed but comforted with Dave’s excitement and confidence that it will be the perfect spot to raise teenagers.)
It really is a perfect fit because it’s just across one major street from where we live right now, so although some of our kids (and me) have some uneasiness about leaving our exact street here in pleasant-ville / friend-central suburbia, they will be a bike-ride away from their bosom buddies, and will be making lots of new friends over in that other kid-haven neighborhood.
Because of that I’m thinking they’ll most probably survive the move 🙂
We didn’t even tell them we bought the house for a week or so…we had to let it sink in a bit and brace ourselves for their bawling. I was all braced for it because I wanted to do it myself in some ways. Yes, I’m excited for this project and the future it holds…it really is a perfect scenario for us, but man alive I didn’t realized how sentimental I am.
Anyone related to my dad has inherited that sentimental gene, but I didn’t realize mine was so strong. Every time I walk into our house where we live right now I find something else that I just adore about it. I just love this house with all my heart. We just finished this room and this room for crying out loud, and everything surrounding us here is so meaningful to us as a family.
And I love the memories it holds of TEN YEARS of our lives: I know the spot where Lucy finally started walking at nineteen months. I think of the kitchen bar where so many projects have been done from school reports to valentine’s boxes. And the bedrooms where so many bedtime stories have been read, first by us parents and then by our stumbling, new-reading kindergartners, and followed by teenagers curled up with a good book on their own. The bathrooms are where our children have learned how to work. Max knows the pool and the yard like the back of his hand. And that yard of his has been heart-attacked and toilet-papered more times than I can count. We have held countless family home evenings filled with love in our family room and played so many games and held so many family dinners around our table, cracking up at Lucy’s antics and telling about our “happies and sads” from the day. I know the way the floor creaks in certain spots and the way the dim streetlights softly slant through the windows in the middle of the night in the room where I have nursed our babies and held them close, whispering in their ear to please not grow up too fast.
But here we are with them growing right up in front of our eyes. And having the audacity not only to not join me in my sentimental melancholy but to actually throw up some cheers about the move 🙂 They know better than I do that new memories will begin, and the fondness of this home will not fade, just a new fondness will grow with the new home.
Dave jokes with me that I’d pack up and move to China so much faster than I would move across the street, and in so many ways that’s true. But that’s because China wouldn’t be giving up what we have right now.
We won’t be moving until we do a few remodeling things, which Dave and I are working on plans for right now. Until then we’ll soak up this memory-laden home we have grown to love and fill our hearts and my camera with it’s beauty.