Moving in is a process.
We have been in our new home for about a week and a half and
it is starting to feel real and sink in.
These lovingly worn wood floors are ours, those oranges growing on those
big beautiful bushy trees are ours, that pink sink that has held many plates
after family dinners in the kitchen is ours, those near perfect roses growing
outside the kitchen window are ours, and that sunroom that is warm and cozy and
wonderful is ours. It is all ours. Every weird quirk and every fabulous feature. We own a home and I am starting to believe
it. I am focusing on the little things,
rather than being overwhelmed by all the projects.
I am a list person, and I am learning that everything cannot
get crossed off when you want it to when it comes to home owning. The other day we ended up picking oranges and
squeezing a pitcher of fresh juice rather than a bunch of other items on my to
do list, and that is great. I loved
every minute of it. I am learning to
respect the house for what it is and remember there is a history in those
walls. I can only take it day by day and room by room and allow myself time to
relax. It is not a race against myself; I
still have to live life inside those walls.
“What are four walls, anyway? They are what they contain. The house protects the dreamer. Unthinkably
good things can happen.” – Under the Tuscan Sun
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