One week ago we became homeowners. We’ve wanted to move for so long, but had to be patient for things to fall into place.
We’ve been taking car loads over every day, but this weekend will be the official move into our new home on Buttercup Drive:
Before we say goodbye to our 1950s rental, I wanted to celebrate the things I will remember most about the house on Maple Street.
I will remember visiting my then-long-distance-boyfriend at this house for the first time and having so many mixed feelings. It felt both perfectly right and perfectly terrifying to consider moving from DC to Illinois.
I will remember that this is the house where we first became a blended family of four – and where I would (eventually) learn how to take photos without a flash.
I will remember how I spent so many evenings during my first year in this house sitting in a chair in the corner of our bedroom, with the door closed. As a highly sensitive introvert, transitioning from living alone with a cat to living with a husband, two teenaged boys, and a large dog was a huge adjustment.
I will remember how in this house, despite all my attempts to the contrary, I fell in love with a dog even though she shed absolutely everywhere like crazy and left us heartbroken in early 2013.
I will remember pretending like I knew anything about gardening for approximately two weeks a year during spring mulching.
I will remember wearing an apron often in this house as I re-learned how to cook for tastebuds different from mine. I will remember slowly introducing my family to unfamiliar foods and dishes.
I will remember painstakingly removing the icky shag carpet and scraping the padding off the wood floors beneath – throughout the entire house. I will remember my water breaking right on to those wood floors nearly three years later.
I will remember that we agreed to alternate putting up my fake tree and getting a real one, but by the time we moved I was totally convinced I never wanted to put up a fake tree ever again.
I will remember how just once a year I was able to tolerate the terribly ugly poles separating the dining room from the kitchen and living room.
I will remember that by my second Christmas in this house (about 16 months) it finally felt like home.
I will remember re-discovering a love of photography and memory keeping in this house. I will remember taking my first mirror selfie – and how it would not be my last.
I will remember realizing that these boys would not be in this house forever and that, despite their protests, I would be taking photos of them.
I will remember getting my first DSLR camera and learning how to actually use it, inside and outside of this house.
I will remember how every year the squirrels would eat our pumpkins long before Halloween. (Can you guess which one was mine?)
I will remember how my best friends would brave bad weather, flight days, and crazy layovers to visit me on the prairie.
I will remember that I turned 30 in the house on Maple Street, but that I felt more anxious about turning 34.
I will remember how I spent a good portion of the first six months of my daughter’s life feeding her and snuggling with her in a blue recliner in the corner of the tiny living room.
I will remember how our parents were so helpful in easing the transition from a family of 4 to a family of 5.
I will remember saying that I would never let my baby sit on the icky floors of this house, and doing it anyway.
I will remember transitioning the third bedroom from a teen boy’s clothes hamper to a sorta-office to a baby girl’s nursery.
I will remember that there was a park just down the street from this house and the first time we event went.
I will remember how in this house my baby turned into a little girl – and that her entire life so far has been documented with Instagram.
I will remember how the big maple tree in front of our little house on Maple Street was the perfect backdrop for six years of patience, gratitude, and life-long memories.