Moving in is a process.
We have been in our new home for about a week and a half and it is starting to feel real and sink in. These lovingly worn wood floors are ours, those oranges growing on those big beautiful bushy trees are ours, that pink sink that has held many plates after family dinners in the kitchen is ours, those near perfect roses growing outside the kitchen window are ours, and that sunroom that is warm and cozy and wonderful is ours. It is all ours. Every weird quirk and every fabulous feature. We own a home and I am starting to believe it. I am focusing on the little things, rather than being overwhelmed by all the projects.
I am a list person, and I am learning that everything cannot get crossed off when you want it to when it comes to home owning. The other day we ended up picking oranges and squeezing a pitcher of fresh juice rather than a bunch of other items on my to do list, and that is great. I loved every minute of it. I am learning to respect the house for what it is and remember there is a history in those walls. I can only take it day by day and room by room and allow myself time to relax. It is not a race against myself; I still have to live life inside those walls.
“What are four walls, anyway? They are what they contain. The house protects the dreamer. Unthinkably good things can happen.” – Under the Tuscan Sun