My new home

Soon, I will move to a new house. It isn’t ready yet, and I have only just begun the process of thinking through how to sort , move, purge, and store thirteen years of living from our current home.  My new house is small, so the editing part of this transition is critical.  But it is also cleansing.
My new house looks and feels nothing like the one I’ve lived in for the last thirteen years.  It is rustic and open. It isn’t fancy or traditional. It sits high on a hill, and I can see the mountains. The hill looks perfect for sledding.
Most days I leave work and drive to my new place, to see what work has been done. I see and smell the fresh paint, and I open the new appliances and peek at their pristine interiors. I notice the slow but steady transformation- when I first saw the house it was dingy and dated and depressing. But mostly what I love when I go each day, is to walk slowly through each room, picturing how we will live there, what it will look like with familiar and beloved family treasures. The house is almost ready for furniture and rugs and personal touches- all those things  that will make it feel like a home, not a house.

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