A home of our own
My beautiful wyfe and I are just starting the process of working towards a home of our own, something we’ve never been completely sure would happen. We are balancing paying down debt and building credit with trips and saving and paying taxes and regular bills. The trips keep us from going crazy, and if we do it right, help us with her citizenship and establishing good credit.
As a result, we’ve been talking about what we *need* in a house versus what we want. I have to have a bathroom that works with my damaged body and we both need a big kitchen with reasonably accessible cabinetry and work surfaces. We really need a place that gives me the ability to do physical therapy, even if it just means being close enough to a gym with a pool for me to get there regularly. Or our own pool, which would be better, as I would be in that sucker every day. My particular damage needs water to help me get more mobility.
What we want, is a home. We want a place with dark wood floors and a fireplace, with homemade soft rugs for the animals to sleep on. A place with furniture from a dozen different eras that is useful and beautiful and eclectic.
We want a bright kitchen with as much light as we can get without being able to fry an egg on the floor in the summer, with appliances that won’t eat our limited income up in electricity. We both would rather have big buffet for storage over a standard set of cabinets. We want someplace that is fun to cook in, and easy to clean up with space for a real table and chairs. A dine-in kitchen where dine-in doesn't mean a tiny folding table and french chairs. A famr kitchen, meant to be lived in.
We want a home, with lace curtains and a yard that is a little overgrown but not so much so that we can’t use it. A few raised beds so I can have fresh herbs without pain, fresh tomatoes in the summer and fresh greens in the winter. A yard for dogs to run around like puppies, for visiting kids to find secrets in. Someplace not so huge that we can't keep it, but not so small that it is all concrete and pots.
I want a place to sit comfortably, that won’t hurt my back and will let me put my legs up. Someplace with good lighting and a place to put yarn and fabric and thread and buttons and books on what stirs my creativity. Sturdy bookcases or old buffets with big glass apothecary jars to store my beautiful yarn in, with shelves behind glass to see my fabrics, neatly folded and shelves behind doors to hide the clutter of tools and extra things. Maybe a big corkboard for bits of design and buttons and the like. Someplace where friends and family can come and settle to work on their chosen creations and be cheered by it.
She wants a place to sit, with friends and without, with music and movies and games and books, a fireplace for cheery warmth in the winter and dancing candlelight in the summer. Someplace to be rowdy and cheerful in that will change to a soothing place.
She wants an office, something with drawers and shelves and all the desk space she could ever need, with space for a guest or two to be able to hang out with her as she works, someplace that will energize and invigorate, make working as close to fun as it can be. Actually that sound rather nice for me too, but I doubt I need both an office and a studio space.
We want a place for guests to come, and stay a few days if they like, a restful quiet space with comfortable bed and a chair, someplace they can retreat to when the rest of the house is too rowdy. We both like to watch our movies and shows with vigor and appreciation and we know too many introverts not to want to give them a space to be without all that.
We want a bedroom that is intimate without being cloying, someplace for romance and rest, someplace easy to keep tidy but not fussy.
It is closer than it has ever been and now, now I am homesick for a home I do not have yet, someplace that is ours, that has our touch and our mark on it, someplace for dogs and cats and friends and family, for craft and creativity, growth and rest. A place to cook with just us or with a crowd. Someplace that suits having a Christmas tree decorating party with kids and noise and laughter as well as a quiet dinner with another couple or two with good conversation.
I love my sister’s house, but is not what I would do. I love my mother’s house, but it is not ours.
I want to go home, and it is just over that other hill, just a little bit farther. I’ve never been there but I know it is home.
As a result, we’ve been talking about what we *need* in a house versus what we want. I have to have a bathroom that works with my damaged body and we both need a big kitchen with reasonably accessible cabinetry and work surfaces. We really need a place that gives me the ability to do physical therapy, even if it just means being close enough to a gym with a pool for me to get there regularly. Or our own pool, which would be better, as I would be in that sucker every day. My particular damage needs water to help me get more mobility.
What we want, is a home. We want a place with dark wood floors and a fireplace, with homemade soft rugs for the animals to sleep on. A place with furniture from a dozen different eras that is useful and beautiful and eclectic.
We want a bright kitchen with as much light as we can get without being able to fry an egg on the floor in the summer, with appliances that won’t eat our limited income up in electricity. We both would rather have big buffet for storage over a standard set of cabinets. We want someplace that is fun to cook in, and easy to clean up with space for a real table and chairs. A dine-in kitchen where dine-in doesn't mean a tiny folding table and french chairs. A famr kitchen, meant to be lived in.
We want a home, with lace curtains and a yard that is a little overgrown but not so much so that we can’t use it. A few raised beds so I can have fresh herbs without pain, fresh tomatoes in the summer and fresh greens in the winter. A yard for dogs to run around like puppies, for visiting kids to find secrets in. Someplace not so huge that we can't keep it, but not so small that it is all concrete and pots.
I want a place to sit comfortably, that won’t hurt my back and will let me put my legs up. Someplace with good lighting and a place to put yarn and fabric and thread and buttons and books on what stirs my creativity. Sturdy bookcases or old buffets with big glass apothecary jars to store my beautiful yarn in, with shelves behind glass to see my fabrics, neatly folded and shelves behind doors to hide the clutter of tools and extra things. Maybe a big corkboard for bits of design and buttons and the like. Someplace where friends and family can come and settle to work on their chosen creations and be cheered by it.
She wants a place to sit, with friends and without, with music and movies and games and books, a fireplace for cheery warmth in the winter and dancing candlelight in the summer. Someplace to be rowdy and cheerful in that will change to a soothing place.
She wants an office, something with drawers and shelves and all the desk space she could ever need, with space for a guest or two to be able to hang out with her as she works, someplace that will energize and invigorate, make working as close to fun as it can be. Actually that sound rather nice for me too, but I doubt I need both an office and a studio space.
We want a place for guests to come, and stay a few days if they like, a restful quiet space with comfortable bed and a chair, someplace they can retreat to when the rest of the house is too rowdy. We both like to watch our movies and shows with vigor and appreciation and we know too many introverts not to want to give them a space to be without all that.
We want a bedroom that is intimate without being cloying, someplace for romance and rest, someplace easy to keep tidy but not fussy.
It is closer than it has ever been and now, now I am homesick for a home I do not have yet, someplace that is ours, that has our touch and our mark on it, someplace for dogs and cats and friends and family, for craft and creativity, growth and rest. A place to cook with just us or with a crowd. Someplace that suits having a Christmas tree decorating party with kids and noise and laughter as well as a quiet dinner with another couple or two with good conversation.
I love my sister’s house, but is not what I would do. I love my mother’s house, but it is not ours.
I want to go home, and it is just over that other hill, just a little bit farther. I’ve never been there but I know it is home.