A home is more than a home

We are looking at listing our house next week. Typing that, plus packing up boxes into a storage unit, makes this feel very real.

I know I’ll miss friends. We’ve made just a few here, but they will be missed. I’ve found a new love of food, especially the smoked meat varietals. Texas knows meat, especially brisket. I’ve found a new love for beer. Austin can brew. I’ve learned to appreciate the hill country and it’s arid, green-dappled landscapes. I’ve learned what it’s like to be a proud Texan and love Texas. There’s a pride going on here that people make fun of sometimes, but only because they don’t understand it. I’ll always remember that. 

I will miss my house. My house is my home.

As an introvert and a homebody, I pride myself on my house and making it a comfortable place to live, think, sleep, create. It’s a reflection of myself. Each room I’ve painted, each tile I’ve place, every floorboard I put down, is part of me, part of who I am. I chose the colors, I placed that tile just like that. Leaving something you’ve been working on for three years is hard and I’ve definitely attached myself to our little rambler. I know that you can make any house a home – it just takes time. I just hope that whoever buys our home, takes as good care of it as we did and can make it as comfortable as I’ve felt there.

I’m not much for materialistic things. If you want something I have, I’ll give it to you (except my wallet and phone). But a home feels different. Yes, I pay a mortgage on it, yes, in all intents and purposes, it’s a material thing, but to me it’s so much more. It’s my sanctuary after a day at work. It’s a gathering place for friends. It’s a creative center, where I can let my thoughts and painting hands run free. It’s so much more.

I love my little house. We’ve had a lot of fun. We’ve had some pains. I’ll be sad to say goodbye, but I’m grateful for the time spent in it and look forward to the next housing adventure.

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