I'm sitting drinking coffee in the kitchen of my new house, looking out into the trees in the backyard, hearing the rain pitter-pat on the roof. The last few weeks have been all about doing and going and pushing through and crossing things off lists. There hasn't really been much time to think, or relax, or reflect, or even take a nice long breath. Even when we've tried to schedule fun activities in between our house projects, there's always been the nagging feeling that there's something we need to get back to.
This morning is the first weekend morning I've had in weeks when I didn't feel like there was something I had to get to right now. Granted, we still have tons to do, but the major things that made our house an unlivable disaster zone (e.g., grease, smells, dirt, flies, and a number of unmentionables) seem to have been addressed. And I think I'm finally reaching that point where this is actually starting to feel like my home and not just a place where I'm temporarily setting up camp.
I recently counted it up and this house is the 17th place I've called home in my life, even when I count college and all its various dorm rooms as one place. Dan's dad was in the navy, so he moved a lot as well. It feels very strange for both of us to think that we are here to stay. That it's worth putting paint on the walls and fixing up things because we won't be leaving in a few months. That we should actually take the time to really get to know our neighbors. That we can think long-term about our plans for this place and how it will grow and change as we do.
We definitely picked this house--with all of its faults--because we knew that it's a place we could stay forever. Granted, life might take us in other directions, but every once in a while I can really imagine Dan and I here in years to come. . . spending holidays together, building a life, having a family. Painting the walls one color and then a few years later changing things up. Spending Sunday mornings on the front porch drinking coffee. Filling our dining room with friends around the table. Knowing that, for the first time, we are tied to a place, and by extension, to the people around us.
I've always envied a bit the people who grew up in the same place, who have only lived in one or two houses, who have always had the people that they love around them. With all the houses that we've lived in, and with our family members scattered everywhere, Dan and I have always known we would never have that. To some degree, that will never change, but I feel as though, for the first time, I have the opportunity to create that. We may not have family here, but we can create a sense of family around us. I will never feel tied to the place where I grew up, but soon enough maybe I will feel like this is the place I've been all along. There are many things about our house that are starting to feel comfortable, but that growing sense that we are where we belong--and that we are here to stay--is perhaps the most comforting thing of all.
