On Thanksgiving Adam and I found ourselves in the kitchen of our new home. A home we’d finalized and finally received the keys to only the day before. We were sitting on camp chairs around our camp table, and a few hours before I’d ran to the grocery store deli and grabbed two $10 dinners of prime rib, mashed potatoes and stuffing. I opened the bottle of bubbly and we toasted in our red dixie cups. I asked Adam, still wearing his paint clothes what he was thankful for this year. He took a pause, and said…
Since we’d received the keys to the house the day before Adam had been off work tackling the horror that was the upstairs of our new home. Me with a barely four week old knee surgery meant he’d been handling everything from removing all the baseboards, patching holes, applying primer in three rooms and three ceilings, as well as painting over the previous owners horrible choices.
If you ever find yourself in the paint aisle thinking, “Painting the whole master bedroom AND the ceiling blood red will really make this room pop!” at least have the decency to paint over the mess before you sell your murder room to someone else.
Even with my heavily documented hatred of change and the fact I couldn’t have possibly put more changes into a single month (leave one job, have knee surgery, start a new job, buy a house, and move), the light at the end of the tunnel means we’re finally going to settle. Walls are painted, new carpet will be installed, eventually all our things will be moved in and I’ll have time to decorate for our first Christmas in the new house. A house we own. No more renting. No more moving. Buying this house means we’re finally out of the cycle where each relocation, home, and life was only temporary.
This really is home. Our home.
And you know, I could get used to this view.