breaking & entering

One of my favorite things about our house is the lovely screened/glassed in porch at the front of the house. It's wonderful March through November, and we're almost always out there reading, or on the computer... drinking wine... relaxing...

Tonight, I was sitting and typing out there and had a little reminiscence:

I distinctly remember the day we put on offer on our house-- the very same day we'd toured several others with our realtor and my parents-- the critics to end all home searches. That day, it was decided that every house we visited was terrible, too small, or too outdated... except one-- which wasn't as terrible and somehow more live-able than all the other houses we'd seen.

l remember exactly where I was when our realtor called to tell us that the sellers had accepted our offer. I remembered thinking HOW MUCH MONEY we had just committed to (gulp)... Of couse, the sale was in '06 at the top of the market, and today we stare up from the bottom.

I remember the day we drove up to see it, again-- this time with friends-- the sale still incomplete. We parked in the driveway, snuck into the front porch (which still doesn't lock well) and peered through the bay window...this would be OURS... We poked around the garage and even lifted the cellar door and crept down the stone stairs just to show how creepy and old the whole thing was.

And now it's home.

Three years this July... already. There have been changes... many changes... but the bones are still the same.

They'll see us, like they've seen many families before us, and perhaps many after.