I sit in the chair in our little house and watching my daughter build an endless tower of LEGO's and look around this room. This room that always feels so big but yet so small. This room full of the perfect Pottery Barn furniture which we saved for months to afford and a overflowing bookshelf of little girl toys including but not limited to a vintage Playskool kitchen, pink shopping cart and metal frying pans from IKEA’s amazingly awful kids section.
It's walls are the perfect paint color, a buttery shade of “Stable Hay” smudged with little fingerprints and dotted with dirt speckles. The large picture window is flanked by my first sewing project: curtains I spent hours upon hours piecing together and then even more hours re-piecing together (I probably should have measured first). The first quilt I ever made is all bunched up on the couch from my husband sitting there just a little bit ago. It's the best quilt to cuddle up with while watching a marathon of "Fixer Upper" and planning our next household project. Across the room, I see our beautiful PB furniture speckled with dust on its top, noes prints from the dog adorn the glass windows and scattered envelopes piled up from today’s postal delivery. It looks messy and cluttered but I’ll get to it later; there are towers to build right now.
I don’t just see the flowers in the vase, the pictures on the walls, and the candles on the shelf, or the various decor items placed in the room, I see the many trips to Home Goods with my husband lovingly pushing the cart while I walk up and down the aisles, the 1000’s of pinsticks from various perfect or less than perfect sewing endeavors with my mom (the world’s best seamstress), the mushy couch cushions from many late nights curled up with IzBits as she fell asleep in my arms again. I see the home we made fit for our family, our lives, our love.
This room, this house, this home, this life will probably be in a perpetual state of “almost there.” Not always exactly what we dreamt of but always perfect in the moment. This room might need a good vacuuming and dusting; it might need a new coat of paint and definitely reorganized to reduce the every growing pile of toys, books and princess paraphilia. However, this room is perfect for pillow parties after a long day at work complete with pizza, ice cream and “Tinker Bell.” Even though it might not ever be clean again, it always feels safe and warm every time I walk through the front door.
It is the home we found nearly 10 years ago; the home we plan to cherish for years to come, the home we have built our family. It might be not be perfect, it might not be huge, it might never be “done” but it will always be home to me and mine. Now, back to our endless routine of "building up."