We’ve been in our New Old Home for a whopping fifteen days, and to my surprise, I still feel like I’m house-sitting.  I sit on the couch and my eyes wander from the kitchen, to the dining area, to the stairs (STAIRS!), to the bedroom.  It’s all so new.  And foreign.  We lived in our Old Old Home for four years and it definitely took on that “worn in comfort” feel that I find myself pining for now.  Henry went from being 2 ½ to 6 ½ in that house.  He potty trained there.  His personality blossomed there.  Our new home doesn’t have any of “us” in it yet.  Just pristinely painted walls, pretty finishes and lots of space.  But no “us”.

Our Old Old Home was small, and not only because of the limited square footage.  1000 sq. ft isn’t much, but when you’ve got someone living above, below and beside you it can really feel like the walls are closing in.  In spite of that, we loved that the windows boasted amazing views and the tight space created a lot of unintentional togetherness.  We focused on the turquoise kitchen and how cozy the living room felt.  We tuned out the neighbor noise as much as possible, lit candles in the Glassybabies and waited for the day that we’d have our own four walls.

I had a feeling, when we were buying our New Old Home, that I would miss the spacial intimacy between the three of us.  Now that there’s room to roam, we, well… roam.  Someone is upstairs.  Someone is downstairs.  Someone is somewhere else.  There’s room to stretch, which we craved, but now I’m understanding that stretching is also uncomfortable.  Ben comes home from work and if Henry and I are in certain places in the house, we can’t hear him.  I can call for someone from the office and not be heard.

During our first few days in the New Old Home Henry was like my shadow.  I went to the laundry room (LAUNDRY ROOM!) and he was right on my heels.  He needed something from his bedroom?  I was definitely going with him.  Understandable, of course, as he’s a wee one and the house is more than he’s known before.  But now he, like the cats, is venturing out and slowly experiencing the space on his own.  Expansiveness.  Something he’s never had in a home before.

My focus stays on the walls.  What to hang there?  How to make this room feel more like us or make that space feel less sparse.  Buying a house is a very different adventure than creating a home, and the latter appears to be a long-term task.

Fifteen days in and I’m craving comfort.  Craving familiarity.  Craving home.  Maybe I’ll bake, or hang a picture, or make the bed, or plan a housewarming party (would it work?).  Maybe I’ll wander the neighborhood and soak in the reality that “this is ours now”.  Or maybe I will just stay on the couch and feel this feeling of “hmm…”.