A feeling of love. A feeling that this house had provided some wonderful memories to a family before us. A feeling that it would be the best place for us to live. It was that feeling. That feeling that this was our home.
As of right now, everything we own is in this house. A lot of it is still in boxes; we're far from settled in. We're likely going to be living in complete disarray for the next few weeks. But we're home. There are boxes everywhere. All my clothes are in suitcases on three different floors. I have no idea where my slippers are (I seriously was ready to kill this morning for my damn slippers).
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| Everything crammed into the living room |
Yesterday, we got a card in the mail from the couple who sold us the house. We have never met them, just seen their name on 100's of pieces of paper we signed our name on. They were listed as the seller; us as the buyer. They live somewhere in Indiana. But we have learned that this was their first home. They lived here when they started a family. They had many happy and wonderful memories here.
They sent us a card saying congratulations on our first home, which neighbors were awesome, telling us how much they loved the house and wishing us the best of luck in making this our home and creating wonderful memories in this place that they once loved. And a Home Depot gift card. I almost cried. Doug laughed at me, but I just couldn't get over the fact that it was the sweetest thing.
We walked into this house and got a feeling. It was obvious to us that the house was well loved and taken care of. Someone else had once had that feeling about this house. And before them and before them and before them.
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| Names and dates of people who have lived here, all written in the basement |
