The other night Tony and I were talking about all of the places we’ve lived, and I realized that since graduating from college I’ve lived in 7 different houses/apartments. That is 7 moves, 7 USPS mail forwarding forms, 7 commutes to adjust to, 7 new sets of neighbors, 7 weird house noises to get used to. How many places have YOU lived??
Our most recent move was probably the most emotional one I’ve had. When we bought our first house (will refer to now as “The Starter”) it was incredibly exciting. We were still newlyweds, and now first time home owners, with nothing but time and energy to make the house our own. Oh the plans we had! There was not one wall in the house we didn’t change/paint/remove wallpaper from, not one floor we didn’t scrub/stain/remove carpet from. By the time we left, three years later, the house was literally covered with our blood, sweat and tears (not in order of amount).
I am nostalgic thinking back to those late nights we spent in the house, drinking beers and painting walls the cool new colors we debated over for weeks. We ate dinner standing up, eager to get to work before we lost sunlight and were forced to share the one work light we borrowed from Tony’s dad, as the house did not have any over head lights. It was tiring, sure, but looking back, we truly made that house our own, in every way we could.
So when we decided to move to house #2, which I will now refer to as “The Burb”, I was emotional. On the one hand I was psyched. The Burb had everything I wanted, and it was move in ready, which meant no wallpaper to remove, no windows to replace! And now with a toddler in tow, hallelujah! But I also worried that without that deep thumbprint that we had put on The Starter, would it ever feel like ours? Or would it always feel like the house of the previous owners, those people who chose that paint color and those cabinets.
Those fears quickly subsided, after night one in the new house. While barely unpacked, I looked around and realized the house already felt so much like us, and not the previous owners. There was our furniture, our rugs, our bed. Our music was still playing as we unpacked boxes, and our favorite beer quickly stocked the first shelf of the new fridge. And my husband and my child, and my poor limpy dog, were there with me, looking so comfortable like they had been there for years.
Amazing how quickly a brand new place can feel like home, when it’s filled with the things and people you love.