I may miss this place
I wasn't really sure if this day was ever going to happen. After years of watching my man tear down and rip things apart, then turn around and rebuild, we've received an offer on our house. I have mixed feelings about this. This house has been a major project, something that I'm not sure I would have signed on to if given the choice, but it has also been our place of firsts.
My husband bought this house shortly after we started dating, over three years ago. We watched many movies on the disgusting sectional. It was so gross, that near the end of it's life my husband wouldn't even sit on it without a towel under him, and he was a 'bachelor' so that's saying a lot. I had my first home cooked meal by my husband in the white laminate kitchen with the leaky fridge. We had our first major fight in the hallway of the bungalow. We stayed up too far past our bedtimes talking and got phone calls and texts from our accountability partners (that would drive by in the wee hours to check to see if my car had left the vicinity).
We had several Skype dates over the dining room table while I was away at school. We shared our first Christmas here, which eventually turned into Christmas in May because they were bachelors and didn't know what to do with the overly dry tree so they just left it up.
I came back to finish my Master's from afar, and this house served as my office away from my home. It was quiet and I took over the dining room. Anytime that there was company I had to explain what all the colour-coded posters were. I planned our wedding from that table, it was my respite from my thesis, just as my thesis was my respite from planning a wedding.
I will never forget returning from our honeymoon to see the old ivory dishwasher rolled out on the front lawn.
Yes, that happened. Boys, what can I say?
We carved out who we were going to be as a married couple, and learned to make space for each other in this house. Moving in was hard, and moving over was just as difficult. We switched sides of the beds three or four times before I determined I like to be on the left, but really, the middle.
We had our first married fight, and it felt so right because even amidst the tension and the hurt I knew that he was tied to me for life. We found a place of reprieve and common ground amongst the chaos through the habits that we developed while being separated by many kilometres. These habits drew us closer together in the tough times. We would stay up late chatting about the day, and finish by praying together, just as we did over the phone.
I learned that I prefer to do things alone and that I have a tenacity inside me that is unyielding. I outlasted three paintbrushes and over 250 fence boards. I also learned during that project that I would be the one to treat our future children's wounds. Although my husband is the trained medic, he is quite squeamish and nearly passes out at the sight of blood. In all honesty, I had to hold his face, look him in the eye, and say, "I know first aid, you are going to pass out if you don't sit down".
There are monumental moments, like putting the excavator through the front window instead of killing a brother, the hernia operations, landscaping, moving to the basement, ripping out the carpet and redoing the hardwood and nearly suffocating because of the varnish. And there are the tiny moments that I hope to never forget, like the tracks of the bunnies in the spring, telling the neighbour girls not to play with a scythe, and hearing our siding sing a little song when it warmed up in the sun.
So now I sit, recounting all of the moments that have made this house a home and I can't believe that I might actually miss this place. After the many arguments, the frustrations, the tears, the sweat, the frozen fingers, the long nights and early mornings, the delays in the countless trips to Home Depot (which I now call the one hour store, it is the bermuda triangle of home renovations), the joys, the laughs, no, the hysteria, the successes great and small, all of these things and many more, I hope that this house becomes a home to the family that bought it. It was all for them, and never for us, our intention was never to keep it, but to bless someone else with all of these things. I hope that some day this house will tell its story. That when someone touches its walls they'll know that it is safe and sound because it was built with love.
That's all.
My husband bought this house shortly after we started dating, over three years ago. We watched many movies on the disgusting sectional. It was so gross, that near the end of it's life my husband wouldn't even sit on it without a towel under him, and he was a 'bachelor' so that's saying a lot. I had my first home cooked meal by my husband in the white laminate kitchen with the leaky fridge. We had our first major fight in the hallway of the bungalow. We stayed up too far past our bedtimes talking and got phone calls and texts from our accountability partners (that would drive by in the wee hours to check to see if my car had left the vicinity).
We had several Skype dates over the dining room table while I was away at school. We shared our first Christmas here, which eventually turned into Christmas in May because they were bachelors and didn't know what to do with the overly dry tree so they just left it up.
I came back to finish my Master's from afar, and this house served as my office away from my home. It was quiet and I took over the dining room. Anytime that there was company I had to explain what all the colour-coded posters were. I planned our wedding from that table, it was my respite from my thesis, just as my thesis was my respite from planning a wedding.
I will never forget returning from our honeymoon to see the old ivory dishwasher rolled out on the front lawn.
Yes, that happened. Boys, what can I say?
We carved out who we were going to be as a married couple, and learned to make space for each other in this house. Moving in was hard, and moving over was just as difficult. We switched sides of the beds three or four times before I determined I like to be on the left, but really, the middle.
We had our first married fight, and it felt so right because even amidst the tension and the hurt I knew that he was tied to me for life. We found a place of reprieve and common ground amongst the chaos through the habits that we developed while being separated by many kilometres. These habits drew us closer together in the tough times. We would stay up late chatting about the day, and finish by praying together, just as we did over the phone.
I learned that I prefer to do things alone and that I have a tenacity inside me that is unyielding. I outlasted three paintbrushes and over 250 fence boards. I also learned during that project that I would be the one to treat our future children's wounds. Although my husband is the trained medic, he is quite squeamish and nearly passes out at the sight of blood. In all honesty, I had to hold his face, look him in the eye, and say, "I know first aid, you are going to pass out if you don't sit down".
There are monumental moments, like putting the excavator through the front window instead of killing a brother, the hernia operations, landscaping, moving to the basement, ripping out the carpet and redoing the hardwood and nearly suffocating because of the varnish. And there are the tiny moments that I hope to never forget, like the tracks of the bunnies in the spring, telling the neighbour girls not to play with a scythe, and hearing our siding sing a little song when it warmed up in the sun.
So now I sit, recounting all of the moments that have made this house a home and I can't believe that I might actually miss this place. After the many arguments, the frustrations, the tears, the sweat, the frozen fingers, the long nights and early mornings, the delays in the countless trips to Home Depot (which I now call the one hour store, it is the bermuda triangle of home renovations), the joys, the laughs, no, the hysteria, the successes great and small, all of these things and many more, I hope that this house becomes a home to the family that bought it. It was all for them, and never for us, our intention was never to keep it, but to bless someone else with all of these things. I hope that some day this house will tell its story. That when someone touches its walls they'll know that it is safe and sound because it was built with love.
That's all.
Comments
Post a Comment