Learning to Love a Home
It took me a long time to love our house. I would arguably say I hated it at first. I started looking at house on Zillow the first week we moved in. We were rushed buying the house, Matt got a job in Rhode island and I had to sell my mountain home for a house in the city, and we had 1 day to find said house.
We toured the house and it had a unique story. It was built in 1875 and was part of the Boston railroad. Our home was where the conductors slept and also was involved with some bootlegging we are pretty sure. It sits about a mile off the Narragansett Bay and from the yard you can watch the sunset and the sunrise. The floors are all original and if you leave a toy car on the floor it keeps rolling because well, the house is old. When the heat turns on you can hear popping all over the house because it's hot water heat. None of the doors shut right and you can hear every step you take because again, old house.
It's small, slightly over 1000 sq ft so we needed to downsize a great deal. We had to let go of alot of our belongings we'd accumulated over the years. It made me a minimalist.
I couldn't put a finger on why I hated it so much. Maybe postpartum hormones or something. I gradually started to work on just accepting this house as our home. I adjusted the way I thought and came to realize it's not the walls that make the home it's the people inside these walls. I started to breathe love into this house. The things I hated I actively started to cherish, after all my son loves that his toy cars never stop rolling- ha! I started to feel refreshed by getting rid of things I hung onto for years and fully embraced intentional living and minimalism. I started watching the sun rise and sun set every day in our yard and being so grateful for each passing day. A walk to the ocean to breathe the salty air was no longer a dream but a daily reality. The popping of the heaters lulls me to sleep every night as I thank God for another day in this old house with my growing family. I have no idea how long we will live here, but I'm so grateful to call it part of our story and to call it our home❤
We toured the house and it had a unique story. It was built in 1875 and was part of the Boston railroad. Our home was where the conductors slept and also was involved with some bootlegging we are pretty sure. It sits about a mile off the Narragansett Bay and from the yard you can watch the sunset and the sunrise. The floors are all original and if you leave a toy car on the floor it keeps rolling because well, the house is old. When the heat turns on you can hear popping all over the house because it's hot water heat. None of the doors shut right and you can hear every step you take because again, old house.
It's small, slightly over 1000 sq ft so we needed to downsize a great deal. We had to let go of alot of our belongings we'd accumulated over the years. It made me a minimalist.
I couldn't put a finger on why I hated it so much. Maybe postpartum hormones or something. I gradually started to work on just accepting this house as our home. I adjusted the way I thought and came to realize it's not the walls that make the home it's the people inside these walls. I started to breathe love into this house. The things I hated I actively started to cherish, after all my son loves that his toy cars never stop rolling- ha! I started to feel refreshed by getting rid of things I hung onto for years and fully embraced intentional living and minimalism. I started watching the sun rise and sun set every day in our yard and being so grateful for each passing day. A walk to the ocean to breathe the salty air was no longer a dream but a daily reality. The popping of the heaters lulls me to sleep every night as I thank God for another day in this old house with my growing family. I have no idea how long we will live here, but I'm so grateful to call it part of our story and to call it our home❤
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