When you’ve lived somewhere for a little while, it starts to become a part of you–and you, a part of it. Your life works its way into the foundation and creeps up the walls like vines, intertwining pieces and moments and experiences and relationships under one, sacred roof.

We have lived in this house for two and a half years, and our life is evident in every corner. Our tastes have inspired paint colors and decorating ideas, our personalities have defined what we keep and cherish, what we put out on display, what we toss with the garbage and what we tuck into cabinets, closets and drawers. Our favorite memories hang on walls in photograph form. Our mail pile indicates priorities, obligations, friendships and interests. This space has become a part of us, and it is becoming more so all of the time.

If you were to enter into our home this week, you’d find titles like Cold Tangerines, Rework, Dad’s Pregnant, Too, and The Art of Racing in the Rain strewn about. Elsewhere, copies of the latest Car and Driver, Real Simple, Fit Pregnancy and Relevant pile themselves up to be read on the weekends, or when winding down at the end of the work day. In other rooms of the house, tubs of borrowed maternity clothes, boxes of to-be-assembled baby things and sorted laundry baskets take up space and beg for time and attention (as life permits), and kitchen countertops boast vitamins and car keys and post-it notes reading, “Don’t forget…” or “To Do…”

Baby coupons, registrations, and amazon.com boxes have become routine at this address as of late. Throw a few rubber dog toys, plenty of pairs of boots and shoes, cords that charge phones and iThings and cameras, and a few water glasses into the mix, and we’re feeling right at home. Our house is rarely in perfect order (but never really very messy), and always a work in progress, whether on the inside (read: paint, frames to be hung, organizing, tweaking, baby-readying) or outside (planting, mowing, shoveling, watering, weeding). We like it that way.

We know that we’ll make improvements for as long as we’re here, and that someday we’ll also move on and leave a whole lot of ourselves and our labor and our memories behind. In this season of life, we’re just delighting in the growth of the space we’ve loved from the day we first saw the “Open House” sign and walked through the front door. Soon, when our little blue haven welcomes its newest addition, there will be even more to organize and clean and keep up, and we couldn’t be happier about it!

In our dining room, one of my favorite sayings hangs on the wall and reminds us daily that we’ve intended this space for good, and for our lives to grow and flourish together. It reads:

“In this house we do second chances…we do grace…we do real…we do mistakes…we do I’m sorrys…we do loud really well…we do hugs…we do family…we do love.”

We also do piles of paper and tufts of black dog hair and dishes in the sink and unmade beds on Saturday mornings. Our house, at 80 years old, is perfect and imperfect at the same time. We are intertwined. And after years of us both packing and moving and moving and packing we have put down roots in this place to make it ours. It is cozy, and open, and home.

settled,

mm