Becoming Home

It's been forever since I wrote a thoughtful kind of post. Life has been so {beautifully} full lately that each day's post is a mad dash to keep you up to date on what's happening in our world {not to mention to serve as a reminder to me later when I finally have time to scrapbook this wild journey and have forgotten key things I want to preserve}.

But I feel the need to catch my breath, so today isn't a recap. It's just my heart.

When I moved into my first home, the one we just left last month, I was a college graduate with a new job, a white twin daybed, a hodge-podge of things inherited from the homes of my grandparents, a kitten, and a roommate.

Life was brand new for me in every way and each day was an exercise in figuring out who I was and how I fit in and how in the world I would survive this Financial Aid thing. And life found a rhythm. I figured out the job, the kitten went to live on a farm after not liking the roommate's cat, the roommate went to live on her own after we failed to find harmony, and I was left with the white twin daybed and the hodge-podge of things inherited, while adding to it a hodge-podge of what began to represent my life.

And despite a couple of huge home-purges in the last few years {one before getting married and one last summer after quitting my job}, this move still felt like an exercise in honing our possessions and figuring out what we need learning to live concisely and simply.

People ask us almost every day if we're all settled in and the answer is no. I would feel comfortable now saying we are largely settled in, but we are not fully settled. Rooms are mostly assembled. Less than ten boxes remain packed. The piles of to-be-sorted are not as bad as I imagined they might be, and I am tickled to the brightest shade of pink at all my newly assembled {AND LABELED!!!} storage boxes that make life lovely

This week, we started the permanent settling of hanging our pictures on the walls. We piled the bed high with art and pictures and sayings and then created little collages on the floor to be transferred to each wall. It was a slow process - and those of you with husbands who have the same love affair with levels and measuring tapes that mine does will understand what I mean by that.

With each step we've taken, this house has become more of our home. The kitchen was the first room I assembled, so I could work to create healthy meals for us - meals that could be eaten on real plates at an actual table. And then I organized the closet so we weren't pulling wrinkled clothes from suitcases and wondering what happened to the bag of socks.

Room by room, we've slowly made a home, continuing to organize and purge as we go. This house is as different in layout from our old home as I think we could have gotten, so nothing naturally went in the same space. Everything required a new home with new vision. And we've loved that. We have loved figuring out how this place suits us. We've combined the old and familiar of our things with the new and exciting of the space. We've combined my things with his and purchased a few more that could just be called ours.

It's becoming home. It's felt like home since the first day, when we wandered inside and stared at the blankest of home canvases. But with each box unpacked and each item given a place, it's become a true home.

We're back at it again tonight - with the level and the tape measure and a new armful of art that needs a wall. It's lovely, comforting {although occasionally maddening} work. And I can't wait to introduce you to the finished product!