My heart aches with fond memories whenever I think of this house. It was the first house that Michael and I bought together. I first real HOME. We loved everything about this house and in some ways, have not been able to feel quite as much at home as we did when we lived here.
It might have been a small home, with a small yard, but it was pretty. There is something about small, quaint places that make me smile.
From the moment we walked into the door, we felt at home with wall words that read "May our home be warm and our friends be many."
We gutted the second level, and put in Brazilian Cherry floors on the diagonal. We redid the kitchen, cabinets and all. We repainted nearly all of the house, including the insides of all the closets. Yes, that sounds strange to even me, but I assure you, I LOVED LOVED LOVED the result. This was the first time Michael and I decorated together. Together we made this our home. Together.
Though there were still lingering signs of my life before Michael. As pretty as it was, our bedroom was one. At least I could say I had wonderful homes for all my purple glass bottles. I'm not sure what to do with them now.
Most significantly, this was the house we lived in when we first became a family. We lived here when Ellie was born. Her nursery was filled with calmness and words of inspiration. We spent many late nights trying to find our way as parents in this room. When we moved out, the patch of carpet in front of the crib was the only patch in the house that was worn down. This is where it all began.