Moving on…

We built our first house when my oldest was five.

We made mistakes…several. The entire experience from picking out cupboards and flooring to getting a mortgage was all new. We weren’t entirely sure what we were doing, it closed late, stress was high and in the end, we moved in feeling a great amount of anxiety.

Eventually…it changed from a house to a home.

We met our neighbours, we had a baby, I decorated a nursery, watched our son take his first steps and found out we were pregnant with our third child there.

We found peace there.

In time, with a baby on the way, we needed more room. The second house, we built with a bit more knowledge. We added more storage, included a few extras and picked out exactly what we wanted. Our daughter arrived and balancing a newborn while building a house…with a husband who started a new job that brought him to a different province four days per week…was difficult at best. Staying on top of contractors and project managers as one issue after the next came to light was daunting. Stress ran extremely high. Our first house closed and we found ourselves moving into a hotel with our belongings in storage and the new house far from completed.

We finally moved in feeling a great amount of resentment for this house that we’d wanted. A great amount of anxiousness for the process that went entirely wrong.

Eventually…it changed from a house to a home.

We met our neighbours, I decorated to my liking, our daughter took her first steps and we chose for me to be a stay-at-home mom there.

We found peace there.

In time, with our friends all living a few streets away on a lovely cul-de-sac just perfect for riding bikes and playing hockey…when we found ourselves spending countless nights walking back and forth and thinking how awesome it would be to live on a street without traffic…a house came on the market that would match everything we already had, plus more. While it wasn’t the tiles I’d chosen or the kitchen I adored…it had four bedrooms, beautiful hardwood, a huge playroom, a separate office, a garage…and was right next door to our very best friends.

We decided to move.

Our home sold quickly and despite a few apprehensions about leaving…I anxiously anticipated the move to our new house and everything it would bring.

Eventually…it changed from a house to a home.

We unpacked, settled in and one week later threw a party with all of the neighbours we already knew. A party that would be the first of many nights of dinners and drinks around our kitchen table. We watched as our children played happily in the basement on cold nights…outside until all hours in the summer evenings. There were multiple camp fires in the backyard and memories that would surely last a lifetime.

We found peace there.

Two years in, life changed dramatically. Where I’d once unpacked and lovingly hung our beautiful art upon the walls…I found myself removing each piece. Where the beautiful antique trunk and dining room set belonged…was now an empty space. Where the antique chairs were once used as end tables in our master suite…they were gone. The chair where my children curled up to watch TV…found a new home. Where his office held his many treasures…it was left strewn with papers.

I packed my husband’s belongings as he moved from our home. Our home…that became a house again.

I saw empty walls. Holes where furniture belonged. Discomfort where once there was love.

Everywhere I looked I saw pain.

In time, I replaced the bedroom end tables with new ones…along with pink flowered bedding and a white “ladies couch.” The table and chairs in the dining room were replaced by a set my former in-laws owned. I replaced the antique trunk with a lime green coffee table to rest my feet. A piece of art from an artist I’d admired, was replaced by another from the artist himself. The office, that continued to hold “his” vibe, was just recently renovated…for me.

I’ve spent more time as single woman behind these doors than I did as a married one.

When I purchased this house from my ex I felt a mixed amount of happiness for keeping this place we chose to raise our children…and an equal amount of resentment for everything it represented.

Slowly things changed. Four years have gone by.

I’ve unpacked my baggage and settled in.

I took my first steps here.

And just recently…despite everything I’ve been through…it changed from a house to a home and I can finally say…

I’ve found peace here.