I’ve been thinking a lot about home lately. To be perfectly honest, when I moved into this old farmhouse three years ago, I never planned on moving out. Even though I knew it was unlikely that we’d be able to own this place- the house is attached to a very large plot of land and waaaaaay out of our price range ($,$$$,$$$)- I guess deep down I still hoped/believed it would all work out.
I mean, feel like this place is where my life really started.
I’ll never forget the month of cold, dark November evenings spent spreading coat after coat of white paint on every square inch of this place before we moved in. Picking out new light fixtures. Tightening up the new pulls we put on each of the old kitchen cabinets. Moving our truckload of belongings in as quickly as possible, so we could race up I5 to pick up our brand new puppy. Sitting on the cold linoleum floor in the kitchen nook with a terrified six-week old chocolate lab in my lap, guiltily watching my parents put away all of our crap. Racing down the stairs those cold December nights as we potty trained said puppy, hopping around while he peed, trying to keep warm in the frigid night air. I’ll never forget waking up randomly one morning around, feeling kind of funny and deciding to take a pregnancy test in our small upstairs bathroom. Waiting for the results to appear. And not being able to tell what they were. Waking my husband up and shoving the test in his face, before proceeding to take 5 more, “just to make sure.” Watching my belly grow in the mirror on our closet door, reaching a size I didn’t believe was possible.
I’ll never forget driving home on treacherous icy roads, Taylor going no more than 25 miles per hour the whole way. A precious new baby in our backseat, sleeping peacefully while we fretted. Walking in the back door, more tired than I’ve ever been in my life, but feeling such a rush of relief to finally be home.
I’ve loved this place. Poured my heart and soul into it. Cared for it lovingly. Put life and beauty and hope into it. It’s been my favorite place in the world the last few years, my sanctuary in a way, as becoming a mama turned my world upside down. I’ve dreamed the dream for a long time. Held onto it faithfully when everybody told me all hope was lost. Though we knew it was unlikely, there’d never been a firm answer, and so I prayed we’d get to be here for the long haul, that it could be ours someday.
But it won’t. It won’t be ours someday. We’ve gotten what feels like an answer. A shutting of the slight crack that was left in the door. And while I expected myself to feel pretty devastated by that, for some reason I felt ready for it. I guess my dreams of having a “forever” home have shifted ever so slightly. I mean, I’d like to find another little place out here in the country to give my love to, but I suppose I’ve realized that it’s not so much about the perfect place, but what we’ll be able to bring to it. Nothing that makes this house so very special to us is unable to be either packed up and taken with us, or re-created somewhere else. No matter where we go, we’ll bring just as much love and care, life and work, and especially hope, as we’ve brought to this place.
I guess over the last year or so, my heart has been slowly opening up to the idea of making a home somewhere else, and I’m slowly getting kind of excited about it. The way things work out here in the country is we just have to sit back and wait for the right place to come along, so we won’t be leaving this beautiful old house any time soon, but I guess it just really feels good to say when that time comes, I’ll be ready. Ready to dream new dreams and make a (hopefully old!) house a home.