Last night, we all went and sat on the front porch for awhile after dinner. Even though we've been in the house now for more than two months, we've never really spent any time there. When it's in the mid-70's, not humid, and the sky is blue, that sure is a good time to hang out there.
This was, I think, one of the first times that I felt like this was our house. After so many years of rentals and wanting to not own the house in Cleveland, I just haven't felt any attachment to a dwelling. I'm not sure I feel that now, but having struggled for years with what makes a place "home," I'm actually starting to feel at home in our, uh, home.
I've turned a corner in some of the attitudes that made me reject the abstract idea of home. I no longer associate owning a home with a lack of mobility, because now homes actually sell, and frankly I don't want to be mobile at this point. The expense isn't as much of a concern either, because the mortgage and taxes are less than rent, and we're slowly getting away from the cash crunch that involved blowing away our savings for a down payment. (Granted, now we have the expense of Simon's therapy, so it seems like there's always something.) Living in Florida no longer feels like an experiment, and that makes it feel OK to really relax and enjoy where we live.
Simon has already lived in five different places, and he's only 4. I think settling down for awhile is a good plan.
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