a house is a home.

In 2009, I met a man who didn’t speak much.  It was a weekend trip to Arizona with a dear friend to visit my brother and his son.  Its probably safe to assume that my brother had no idea how to entertain us so he looked to his friend/boss for help.  This friend decided to host a pool party and invite friends (and two unknown ladies).  We arrived at his home to be greeted by a few awkward fellows, who seemed overjoyed that females were present!   It turned out to be a nice day, making new friends, and enjoying the Arizona sunshine.  Later that evening, I found the gentleman host and sent him a ‘thank you’ greeting via Facebook.  As far as I was concerned, it needn’t go any further.

Wow, was I mistaken.  After many flights back and forth across the country, MANY long hours of phone conversations, I decided to move to Arizona.  All for a man who didn’t speak to me at our first meeting because he was “nervous”!  Trust me..it didn’t take long for his nervousness to disappear.  I soon learned that he never stops talking!!  (Haha..)

In the area that I lived in Pennsylvania, the houses are quite old, the town is very traditional, and everyone seems to know everyone.  I had lived in Dallas at one point, but returned after one year.
When I told my family I was moving again, to a place 3000 miles away, with a man I had only met 5 months prior.. lets just say the idea was not welcomed.  I guess it seemed as a bad start to a horror movie.  You know, new girl meets stranger who woes her into leaving her life to move far away with him and boom!  Horror movie ending.  Luckily, it wasnt this way.

I moved into the home that he had recently built.  Beautiful structure with a sweet in-ground pool.  Yeah, this was nice!  Apart from what I was used to, it was a single story home in the desert.

Let’s jump forward two years.  We had our son, Brixton.  Although the house was beautiful and new, it had reached a point of being too costly to stay.  So, we moved to an older two story home on the military base (because my husband was military!).  After nearly 16 months, we moved again.  This time to a new, larger two story home less than a mile from our current address.  I loved this house.  It had no sentimental value to me.  This wasn’t our children’s first home, yet the house fit all of our needs plus more.
After all of this moving we had gathered enough knowledge to understand what we liked and what we didn’t.  We spent another 16 months in this home until my husband’s retirement from the military, which meant another move.

Now we’ve arrived back to where I started.  Not only are we in Pennsylvania, in the town I grew up in, but we’ve moved into my childhood home!  These homes are different from what we had..they have a long history of hard working families,  tradition, and a sense of down-home pride.  I grew up here. I knew all about this.  And I didn’t want to come back.
Now that we’ve been here for a bit, I can honestly say it is nice to be near family and friends that we hadn’t seen much in many years.  Now we can visit when we want, without having time restrictions.

The house is..old.  My parents had spent many years working on their home to update their 100 year old building.  Work that seemed never ending.  The houses are large with decent sized rooms.  But due to their age, the rooms are very closed off from one another.

All of this brings me back to one thought.. I miss our house.  Not that I need or want to live in Arizona again, but our last home there was perfect for our family.  And I miss it more than I expected to.  Its quite funny to think of all of the likes and dislikes gathered from moving quite a bit.  But it is rather helpful in planning our future.  Now we, or at least I, know that a single story home is not for me.  Or that living far upside of town (or a city) isn’t ideal for our lifestyle either.  As of now, we’re doing well in our current living situation and are blessed to have family who put up with us and our chaos.  I still miss our home.  Sadly,  after being in Pennsylvania for a month or more, Brixton decided that our vacation was over and he was ready to return home.  That was heartbreaking, but we had to reassure him that everything will be fine and this is our home for now.  I guess I’m not the only one who misses the house..

My heart may be in our last home, but I’m grateful for the opportunity we’ve been given.