In just a few days, we will have lived in this house for five years. This house seen a marriage begin, the birth of two babies, countless comings and going of pets, friends, and family...its walls bears the marks of growth for my sons. Their artwork quite literally covers every corner of this house. I'm not kidding, there are crayon scribblings on each wall in my house. This house is where I brought my first child home from the hospital. It's where my second child was so lovingly born. It has been shelter to five cats, three dogs, fish, hamsters, turtles and frogs. This house has been a place of refuge for a pregnant friend whose family turned their backs in her greatest time of need. It has hosted parties, holiday dinners, and simple gatherings of loved ones. It has heard its share of fighting, mostly over inane things that don't really matter. This house has been a source of endless frustration- its soil just won't support plant life. It has seen the healing of my husband from three lifesaving surgeries. We talk all the time of moving from here, but somehow we never take the first step. We have in no way treated this house with the respect it deserves. It has been largely unmaintained, yet has held itself together quite well. This house has weathered storms both inside and out.
As we approach our fifth year in this house, I realize that somewhere along the way it became our home.
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