Three years ago this week, SSH and I started looking for our house. We knew we needed to move, as Hurricane Ike had well demonstrated the struggles our more coastal area would have with any kind of tropical storm, and we knew that around the first of the year we’d be able to start really looking for a home. It was a learning time for both of us, filled with books about houses, phone calls to family members, internet house listings and house-hunting programs on TV.
Something I didn’t expect to be so significant about being in a house, versus an apartment, was the level of “ours-ness” that would come about as we both added our own style to the house and as we changed with it through the seasons. I can’t speak for SSH, but setting up the house for the holidays this year brought back memories of our last two holiday seasons here, and how things are so different for us now than they were three years ago, or two years ago, or even last year.
The more memories we have here, and the more time we spend, plus the work we’ve put into making this place ours – the house feels more and more like a reflection of us. The gardens, especially, make me feel plugged into this little chunk of land with our house on it.
Decorating for the holidays, I realized that there are some decorations that no longer fit anymore, and others that I may not have put out in the past that seem to fit better now.
The out of place things stick out more than they used to, since I feel so settled in.
I am, at my core, a homebody. I enjoy traveling to new places, but I don’t have the wanderlust, the sense of adventure that some of my other family members seem to have. I like my home, and being able to return to that home is one of the highlights of a long trip. The safety and security of my own place is something that I treasure, especially during the winter months.
Seeing the house decorated for the winter holidays only reinforces how much at home I feel here, and how thankful I am to have it.
I can’t wait to have a home, for exactly this reason. In my apartment, there are things I would change (large or small) that I either can’t or don’t feel right about.
I would rip out the carpet and put in bamboo flooring. I would completely redo the kitchen so the “arm” was actually an island with two useable sides. I would replace cupboard doors and stain the wood of the stairway. I would paint walls and replace the shower and add in wainscoting.
I would make it MINE.
Someday (and hopefully someday soon, as Mr. Moore has a job and will be graduating college in April!) I will have a home that is mine, so I can arrange the sticks and feathers and twigs of my nest just-so.
They say Sagitarrius are travelers, but I think a larger part of me is, as you say, a homebody. I want to put down roots for the first time in my life.
I’m glad I’m not a homebody. My job and my love of travel fits that perfectly. I can move to a different state when there’s a job opening, I can leave my rental at the drop of a hat if I need to. That freedom is priceless to me. I guess I just don’t like being tied down to one location for a long period of time, and if I owned a house, I would be.
Still, someday after I retire, I’d like my own home base. I’ll still travel, but I’d own the space and could do what I want with it. And check out what this home ownership thing is all about. My friends who are homeowners all love that “ours-ness” that you described. I definitely don’t have that with a rental and I’m curious to see what it’s like.
I am definitely a homebody. Funniest thing is, since my sister and I have rented every place we’ve lived, my “home” is still my parents’ house. Lived in that place for 20+ years before I moved out, and it’s still the first place I think of when anyone mentions home.
Someday I hope sis and I can get our own place (that isn’t rented), then we can finally start making our -own- “home”.
/endramble