My family is likely to move in the near future. My husband is interviewing for positions and I am looking for homes. This move will likely be our last (hopefully) where my husband, at 45 years of age, will find a position he will stay until he retires from his profession. This will be a home we will raise our young children until they leave our “nest” and move on to create lives and spaces of their own in this world.
Our last move was nearly 10 years ago and before the birth of our children. We were newly married and living large, literally. We live in a 3600 square foot home that we thought was beyond life. We had arrived in our lives and this house proved it. It is beautiful home. We’ve had many wonderful memories here and have loved and cared for it greatly.
I am unable to continue in my career because of my family’s dysfunctional normalcy (see earlier post “Marriage: Dysfunctional Normalcy). This is okay with me, as I value the new role that I’ve found in my life and treasure the contributions that I am able to make to my family. I’ve spent hours looking at available homes in multiple locations. I have now realized, however, that I want something different from what appears to be the “it” thing. This is not a new concept for me. Actually, it’s becoming more the norm.
I have narrowed my requests. I want an old home. I want a farmhouse-type home with land for a garden to grow my own produce. I want a wrap around porch for my children to play. I want a yard they can run freely in without traffic being in the way. I don’t want to hear expressways, airports, or sirens… only the birds and the wind. I don’t want to live in a subdivision. I want to drink my coffee outside without looking at my neighbors drinking theirs. I want old oak moldings, heavy wood trim, solid built walls that contain the warmth and laughter of my family and the memories we create, as well as the love felt from the traditions of the families that have lived there before mine. I want solid wood doors that keep scary dreams out and sweet sleep fairies in. I don’t want a formal dining room. I want one table, in one room where everything happens. I don’t need granite countertops. It doesn’t need to be big (though my 6ft, 6in husband needs to fit comfortably) otherwise there is too much emptiness. I want to hear the creeks in the floor and see it age, as I age. I want my children to return with their own families and “feel” the memories the house holds, not just recall them.
There are certain houses that hold the capacity to give me what I want, and there are many out there that don’t. Wherever my family lands in the near future, I hope I find the gift of a home that does.