Our little family is facing a big change.
We are about to buy a house. A real house, with a driveway, 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a fireplace, a garage, a walk-in closet. It is everything we have needed for so long. And much of what we wanted. God has blessed us and my husband has worked so hard to put us in a good financial position so that this is possible. I am thankful to both.
My kids finally get their own rooms! So long overdue. They have big plans - and even a few fears. Mom gets to finally find out who the real slob is! haha. Yikes. Perhaps it is both of them!
My husband gets to have his dream of a yard to putter in, grass to cut, bushes to trim. My children will know the joys of having a garden. I still remember the radishes, cucumbers, and carrots I grew as a child. Our lives will spill out into a yard that is more than a covered concrete porch. I get to gaze out at our lush green back yard from my dining room bay window. I get to watch the hummingbirds come and greet me.
I relish the thought of being able to sit and study my Bible at my bedroom window with a view of that beautiful back yard, listening to the birds singing up a storm in the bushes. I long to spread out in that big master suite and not worry about space (at least for a while...).
I can't wait to inhabit the kitchen and decorate the great room, to have a party and throw open the french doors to the back yard, to sit on the porch in the rain and enjoy the peace and quiet.
I nearly cried last night when I realized that next Christmas I will have a fireplace from which to hang our stockings. That's just priceless to me.
We found the house after weeks of online searching and one day of visiting (our decision made easy by school district boundaries and our desire to keep our commutes in the same range) and we fell in love when we walked in. We offered, we inspected, and now we wait and pack.
But as I pack up this old tiny townhouse, I find myself fearing the change. This is where my baby girl took her first steps. The small common grass area right beside our house will always be "my own backyard" which is what my 4-year-old son exclaimed when we came to see this house back in 2001. It was never really his, but we've kicked many a ball out there and even had Hannah's 2-year birthday party there.
I will miss this kitchen, small as it is. Completely torn out a few years ago due to mold and then rebuilt again. We built each cabinet with our own hands (and the help of the cute little Ikea man on the instructions), We replaced the sink and dishwasher with the help of a dear friend. So many memories.
This fridge, the backdrop of ever-evolving artistic abilities.
This living room, where my daughter first drew a bow across a violin.
We have built and rebuilt our lives here. The first place we called our own. It will be hard to leave.
We will still own it, so it's not like it is lost forever. We are renting it to a relative, so we can come "visit" our memories. But it won't be the same.
Is it possible to be homesick for a place you haven't left yet?
Still, in my mind's eye, I find myself already looking out windows that I don't yet own. I see myself sitting in front of a fire not yet lit. I see my prized R.C. Gorman print hanging over the mantle. I see our cats excitedly watching the birds from the dining room window. I see our children sleeping in their own space. I hear music echoing off the vaulted ceiling. I see my car in a garage (a garage!!!) And I know this is the right thing.
Change is exicting and hard and good and bad and painful and fun. It is all those things. And I am ready for it.
Oh, and to those ladies out there - packing up your bathroom is a good time to use that peel-off-mask you thought you lost and found again. And your kids will get a kick out of mom's "plastic face". :-)
