My First Home
A Salute to my first home
For the last few years, I have loved calling this house my home. My Aunt and Uncle helped make that possible. My best friend, Kathleen, helped me build this house into a home. When Kathleen moved out, my sister helped me keep it a home. Through all my travels, I have loved being able to come back here. It was always a much-needed constant in my ever-changing life. I have always wanted a place to call mine, and that’s what this was. I was very blessed that I didn’t have enormous repair or renovation costs during the time I lived here.
When I first saw this house, the paint was an ugly tan color, the carpet needed to be replaced, and the kitchen needed an overhaul. Right away I had the carpets replaced and, with the help of some of my friends, we repainted. I never did redo the kitchen, mostly because I spent all my money traveling. But I made this house my own and that’s all I wanted. I remember one-night spray painting the vanity in the half bath after a few too many Bloody Mary's. Yet somehow, it still came out great. I designed a full outdoor oasis that I never materialized. This house has so much potential, it just needed someone to spend the money to finish it. Instead of replacing the kitchen appliances, I went to Hawaii. Instead of refinishing the cabinets, I went on a hot air balloon ride in Lake Havasu. And instead of finishing the kitchen, I am selling the house for a life on the road. It was bound to happen. My family asks “where are you” more often than they ask “how are you”. My dad considers my decision to live in a travel trailer for the upcoming summer “normal” compared to what I did last year. But still, I feel this house deserves to be honored for what it was to me. My first home. The first place I could truly call my own.
Although I did not live here long by myself or finish all the projects I set out to, I still loved this home. I have laughed, cried, celebrated, and feared in this home. I have left for months on end. But I have, above all else, loved in this home. I have loved the people that helped me move in, and out. I have loved the people that enjoyed a movie on the couch and a drink in the backyard. I have loved Atticus and Mandi for the unconditional love and antics animals bring. I have loved Kathleen and Cori for making this home so special to me. I have loved the relationships I have held throughout my years here and what they have taught me. Some of my favorite memories will always be dancing around my kitchen, listening to Chris Stapleton, enjoying coffee, while making breakfast. I have loved walking along the golf course and my views of the Superstition Mountains. I have loved the sun shining through the windows and the breeze that rustles the curtains. I have loved the game nights, and the movie nights. I have loved the rolling thunderstorms shaking the house, and the quiet nights where you can hear the soft breeze in the trees outside. And I have learned to truly learned to love the smallest things.
As I sit writing this, the bedrooms are empty and clean, while my living room looks like all hell broke loose. Tomorrow I will move the last of my belongings into a tent and eventually into a trailer. I don’t even know where I will be a month from now but I know this next step is exactly what I am supposed to do with my life and I just cannot wait to always be home, no matter where I am.
But this, will forever be my first home.
**This post was originally dated February 27, 2017 and was posted on another site. For simplicity, I am moving this post to this page.**
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