The Ah-ha! Moment

I'll just write this post for the sake of keeping a record of the major moment when C and I knew we had to buy his childhood home. We had initially moved in, and agreed that we would give it three months as renters. We'd either find something else to purchase in that time, and/or know if we wanted to live in the farmhouse for good. And we felt productive - knowing we were getting to sample a house, so to speak.

From the moment we moved in, it felt peaceful. Something we have needed and longed for during the previous months of indecision and instability. I knew as I was unpacking that it wasn't going to be temporary, but neither of us declared that at first. It felt like home. We loved the space, the quiet, the convenience, the history, the stories...We explored the dog park, walked the neighborhood, got our hands dirty in the yard. Then one day as we pulled into the driveway (past that pesky For Sale sign), we saw a number of cars - a very nice Lexus, a landscape designer's company car, and a construction company vehicle. They were all outside, walking the yard. We rolled down our windows and apologized - the realtor hadn't told us there would be a showing, and did they need to get into the house? They quickly answered they weren't there to see the house, just the property, and asked if they could come back again with another contractor? We nodded like little bobble-heads, rolled up our windows and faced each other. "We're buying it," Chris said. "I know," I answered.

It was that simple - faced with the prospect of someone tearing it down to put up another giant, generic McMansion, we knew staying there was the right thing to do. So, we will put our best efforts into the house, and hope that our improvements will be enough to make the next buyer see the charm and sweetness in this little house, so that someday when we move on, we can drive by with our kids and point out the house where their childhood memories live as well.