We’re buying a house! (and I’m avoiding a great deal of housework to jot down these few thoughts!)
We’ve been looking at houses in the area for a few months with the hopes of finding something we could move into when our current lease ran out. While I’ve grown pretty tired of the whole process, Paul’s enthusiasm has never waned. So when he found yet another house I just had to see, I rolled my eyes.
But, last Wednesday he set up another viewing with the realtor to get me into this “perfect” house–small & outdated, yes, but well-loved and well maintained. Paul loves it because it has new roof & gutter, new siding, new windows, new furnace, new blah-blah-blah, but it was the story of the house that won me over (and helped me overlook that tiny kitchen!) Get this: We are buying the house from the same woman who built it with her husband fifty years ago!
This idea conjured up all sorts of images for me–the endless meals prepared in this kitchen and served in that dining room; the kids tucked into their beds in those rooms; the jostling of elbows as this little family brushed their teeth together in the house’s only bathroom; a quiet couple left behind turning all their tender attentions to maintaining the house that had served their family so faithfully; the swell of noise when everyone came home to celebrate a meal around a table pulled into that extra space by the living room… Somehow, this house is the perfectly practical house with a half acre yard that Paul has been looking for and the achingly romantic story I want to finish writing all at once.
I know this little house will hardly compare to the homes that will pop up in the new suburb slated to be built just south of us, but I know it is enough house to hold a family–our family–and I can hardly wait to call it home.