Fresh out of college with mere scraplings of a plan for the
rest of my life tucked in my back pocket, my dad convinced me to purchase a
newly built condo on the west side of town. It seemed like a massive undertaking
for someone my age, but he helped me realize that it would be an investment for
my future. And with a picturesque view of Mount Helena right out the front door
and the smell of fresh paint on the walls, what wasn’t there to love?
My first official night in my new home was a blistery hot
one in the first week of July. I’d spent the last 4 years living in college
dorm rooms so I didn’t have much in the way of setting up a house. But after
purchasing a couch, dresser and a couple of chairs to sit at my kitchen counter
with….plus the plethora of items my parents slowly carted over, my house begin
evolving into something greater than four walls and a roof. Over the course of
the past 6 years it has truly grown from being a house to a home……my first
place of living alone and becoming an adult in.
As I sat cross-legged on my living room floor two weeks ago agonizing
over samples of carpet, siding, granite and laminate for our new house, I couldn’t
help but look around the room feeling heartbroken. I’d gotten so wrapped up in
the excitement of designing a new home that I never stopped to think about the
one I’d be leaving behind. All of a sudden the full force of that reality hit
me.
When you know you’re about to lose someone or something
important to you, there doesn’t seem to be enough time to memorize and catalog
all of the tiny details of it in your mind so you never forget. Now every
carpet fiber, paint chip, door knob and scuff on the wall is special in a way I
could never explain. In the midst of minor home repairs and the start of
packing for our grand transition, I’ve taken the time to photograph all 900
humble square feet of my home…..the way it was when I lived there…...so that I
can always remember and cherish the beginnings of the life I would build for
myself.
So many memories…..
The corner of my living room by the front window is where
Andy helped me set up my very first “real” Christmas tree. Even though it was
too tall and scraped the ceiling, I was incredibly proud of it.
The kitchen island, that has seconded as my dining room
table, is where I sat and hand addressed all of my wedding invitations. It was
also where I sat with my friend, Chris, late one night binging on donuts and
Henry Weinhard Rootbeer and discussing life.
My couch, which Andy despises because the cushions always slide
off, is what I was curled up on at 2:30 am one night when my best friend,
Jamie, called to tell me she’d gotten into a fight with her boyfriend and had
thrown all of this things outside and was determined to light them on fire. Man, am I glad I was awake to take that call!
I was leaned over on the chair in my living room looking out
at the street lamps the night I told Andy over the phone that I had decided to
join the Catholic Church.
I was standing in my tiny bathroom lacquering on mascara
when Jamie arrived with an iced mocha to pick me up on my wedding day to get my
hair done.
The plain white ceiling in my kitchen is where I've strung blue
and turquoise paper snowflakes each year at Christmas to ignite the holiday
season.
The carpet next to my couch is where I knelt and cried hysterically
after being asked to write a eulogy for a friend’s sister. It felt like an
impossible task in that moment.
My one car garage is where I pulled out of on my bicycle and embarked on
all of my long-distance rides in the wee hours of the morning.
The cross shaped mark in the wood of the corner cabinet in my
kitchen has always been a sign to me that I am exactly where God always intended
me to be.
At its most basic definition, a house is a place with four
walls and a roof that offers you shelter. But with time, people, and a few
personal touches, a house quickly becomes a home and place of belonging. Though
I have already shed numerous tears over the thought of leaving my condo on
Overlook Boulevard, I will no doubt dissolve again on my last day there when I
close the door and walk out for the last time. I know that no amount of
pictures and memories will ever fully fill the void of leaving behind my first
home …..but as C.S. Lewis said, “There are far, far better things ahead than
any we leave behind.” I will leave behind one home and chapter in my life but
will be entering quite possibly the best home and chapter of my life. It will
be the first chapter of mine and Andy’s life as a family and that is terribly
exciting.
The thing about all great stories is, even though you always
have to end one chapter of it and turn the page in order to go on to the next
one, you always carry the entire book with you until you finally reach that
very last sentence.
Let the story continue!
