When a house is a home

I bought my first house today.

My realtor called me on my drive to the studio this morning and said that the sellers "weren't happy about the offer but they were going to sign". Whatever, ya greedy bastards. I got it! It's small and modest but I love it and it's mine. After 5 months of looking, 13 contracts written up and denied...

It's a lovely bit of land with nice tree cover and i even get the occasional visit from the local bird population. I'm thinking I may make some bird houses for them out of old boots or tea kettles.

In that one moment, that one little phone call, all the scrimping and saving, all the dinners of frozen veggie stir fry and bean and cheese burritos, all the missed opportunities and vacations, it was all worth it in this moment.

But in all my happiness, and as it is in these life milestones, my thoughts go back to those who can't stand next to me and give me a hug and help me pick out a rug and bring me a plant for the kitchen window. My brother will never crash on the couch or help install my surround sound. My Granny won't help pick paint colors or stay in the extra bedroom. I know they're super excited for me but I still wish they were around. I wait for a sign.

It's not fair.

But we move on. That's what we do. For me, I have to push that out of my mind for the moment. There is so much to do.

I don't have a sofa! Which room is gonna be which? But right now, my mind is occupied with what to do with all my adorable custom address labels... Perhaps send out house warming invites?

I can't wait for that first night when things are put together and the lights are turned on and we're having pizza in front of the TV with the cat zooming from one room to another. There will be room to breath. Room to dream.

I will be home.