A HOUSE IS JUST A HOUSE

When I look around at this empty space, I’m vividly lost inside the very moment I sat down on my old sofa (the only furniture we had week 1), breastfeeding two babies at once and feeling exhausted. There were pool workers outside building our pool, the windows were wide open, and my boobs were just hanging out feeding my litter. It was July, 2015, week two of living in our dream home.

Today it’s just a house. A house I built from the ground up. A house I designed with the help of a wonderful builder and architect and incredible team. Despite being extremely pregnant with twins the entire build I was over the moon excited about every inch of this space and having my hands in every detail. We built the house. And the house became our home. 

A home. It’s where I nursed my twin infants from an itty bitty 6 pounds each to two plump strong baby boys. Where I changed their diapers and sissy helped entertain them while I took my daily night time shower. It’s where Daddy and I knew we’d raise our beautiful humans and where we’d teach them how to swim, how to ride a bike with no training wheels, and truly, how to love and live.

Mission accomplished. 

We did good. We did better than good. We lived. We loved. We learned. We fought sometimes because that’s what families do. We loved hard though. We taught each other that the great outdoors (right in our backyard) was healing and adventurous and basically the good stuff in life on a Friday night. 

But truth be told.

A house is just a house.

And as unexpected and fast it was to sell it and let go, we have. 

We have let go.

Because we will build a new house. And the new house will be the same brick and mortar. The same safe place we called home like this one.

But it’s what happens inside that makes it all worth living. 

Sure the abundance of space in the field and the river flowing by will be missed. And the baby raccoons we discovered yesterday will move on and meet its new owners. But in the end, the true makeup of that house was who we were inside it and who we will continue to be.

Sometimes I can’t believe we are leaving such a gem. But if I could build a house that wonderful while building two babies inside me, surely this next one will be just as great. Maybe even better.

Here’s hoping.

And here’s to new beginnings. Because a house is just a house.

And our family has roots that will outlive any piece of land. 

I guarantee it.