Newly married, I was overly anxious…obsessed, really…with creating a home. I desperately wanted a dwelling to envelop us that we could call our own forever. One made over with “us,” where the roots of months and years could grow deep. A structure that served as balance and anchor, alive with the sustenance of love and family and community. A secure canopy under which to dream. A place to try things out. A place where traditions are unintentionally created. A jumping off place. A place to return to. Here, impractical and sensible could merge without judgment of another. Silly and emotional and talkative and introspective thrive. I dreamed of rewarding hard work days. Of play dates. Of jammies, slippers, books and the-smell-of-good-food days. Over time, the not-so-perfect house with the perfectly big yard we found has become this. Over time, the house became a home.
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