When a house became a home

We couldn’t have been in our new house for more than a few weeks. My wife was seven months pregnant with our first child and I was working round the clock trying to put up wall paper and finish the baby’s room. I was working long hours during the day and then rushing home in the evening, staying up late, to get the house ready for our newborn.

One day when my wife was out, I started to move a big box from our bedroom to the baby’s room. My wife had lectured me to wait to move it until someone else, presumedly her father or another family member, was around to help. In my haste to move the box, I chipped the paint off the molding next to the door. It was nothing big, I was just annoyed with myself. I cursed at my bad luck, but told myself not to worry about it, we were getting comfortable in our new home and I would fix it later when I had more time. 

Hopping down the bunny trail

I’m older now, but I’ll never forget how my wife and I felt: excitement mixed with nervousness. We were starting a new adventure. We were homeowners now. We felt the burden of ownership, but we needed the house. It wasn’t just us anymore. We had a little one on the way. Despite a few worries, I managed to finish the room in a Peter Rabbit motif and even put together the crib and everything else in the room before my wife went into labor. 

And the chip in the wall. I never did get around to fixing it. All these years later, I’m still waiting for the right opportunity. 

When we first bought our house, it was going to be our starter home. We were going to be in it for four or five years max. We would be onto something bigger in no time. We had a good plan. It was the right plan, but life sort of got in the way. One, two and three kids later and our starter home became our lifetime, forever home. Two of our three kids have grown up and moved out of that home and the third is well on his way.

Oh, there are times when I’ve wanted a McMansion that is all the range now or one closer to my work, closer to the city. I fight the green eyed monster that lives inside of me every so often and crave something bigger and “supposedly better” in the wealthier side of town.  

But, I can never get one big thought out of my mind: God put us here for a reason. 

Happiness and then some

Our home has seen birthdays, anniversaries, and too many celebrations to count. If our home could talk, it would speak of sadness too. It’s seen some tears. The happy moments though far outnumber the sad ones. We could go out and buy a brand new home with double the size, but would it make us happy, would it band us together like this house has.

I think not.

And oh yea, I can feel it in my bones. This is the year I fix that nick on the wall. Of course, I just might keep it now for old times sake.

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