I Miss My House

Did you know that, until less than a year ago, I had never owned a loaf pan? When we got married, it never even crossed my mind to put it on our registry. And while I can make a mean snickerdoodle, that's kind of the extent of my baking prowess. But when you're home with two kids under three in a neighborhood with postage stamp yards, and you have week old bananas at home, you bake banana bread. Even if you don't know how. Or own a loaf pan. Because you know what? You're pretty sure there's at least one available loaf pan within a 100 yard radius of your house. Because that's how our neighborhood was.

And we made some delicious banana bread.

On the third go around. The first two were too mushy in the center. Rookie mistake.

When God told us to move, I knew we'd be leaving the convenience of a tightly knit 'hood. And we also knew that what we had found was rare real estate gold. All of the best friends we had in VA were within our doorsteps. There were SIX of us pregnant at the same time, for goodness sakes! Our children played with each other from the moment they were born. The women of the 'hood were closer than I ever thought possible. We all depended on each other for one thing or another. Our stay in Northern Virginia was life changing.

We had moved to Northern Virginia as a newly married couple with all the hopes and dreams any newly married couple should have. We left with six years under our belts, two kids, and way more stuff than should ever fit into a 980 square foot home.

There were Friday night drinks (and Saturday and Sunday and Monday, and, well, you get the point) on the front lawn, hot summers with late bedtimes, fire pits, front yard bar-b-q, laughing so hard we cried, babies learning to crawl and walk and talk and play, leaning on shoulders to cry on as we discovered this parenting thing wasn't so easy, being that shoulder for the newly inducted. There were friendships made that will last a lifetime, some that were only for that time in our lives. My love for God grew more furiously than I had ever imagined.

Life Changing.

We knew the move was right, but living in our rental house while the new house was being built was kind of like being on vacation. A really long and difficult and frustrating vacation full of lonely nights, unpacked boxes and bare walls. Although we've been in the new house for SIX WEEKS, it feels like a lifetime, but it's still not mine.

The floorboards don't squeak like they used to when I check in on the kids, except that there's this new creak at the top of the stairs and I hit it every time and Mr. C always hears it, despite how soundly he was just sleeping. The house is so quiet that Copley hears the deer outside and trucks from a mile away that she couldn't possibly actually hear, except that she pretends she does and goes absolutely berserk.  Which she did in our old house, but that was always an indication that someone was just stopping by to say hi or drop off a loaf pan.

This was actually taken the night I went into labor with Miss E. It never looked this clean again.

Now that we're in our forever home, we've realized that it will take ten minutes to walk to the neighbor's house for an egg. Or more like twenty when you consider a toddler and a preschooler and all involved to get the three of us out of the house. Which means we should have just jumped in the car to the store to get a whole dozen of eggs, but then I realize that will just take too long. Note to self: must get better organized with grocery shopping.

I miss my house. I miss knowing how to navigate each room in the dark. I miss knowing which neighbors are home just by the sounds I hear and the sights I see when I open the front door. I miss the sweet nursery we made for Miss E, then changed around to accommodate Mr. C. I miss being able to show up at a friend's house unannounced and accidentally end up staying way past dinner time.

But we were called to leave. We were called here, to be in this place at this time. And though I'm not 100% sure why, I'm 100% sure we did the right thing. I walk around this unsure place, wondering where I'll fit in, when it will feel like home. Then I step outside into the chilly night air and see more stars than I've ever seen from a place I've actually lived in. I watch our kids find adventure in "hikes" through the woods that are their backyard. They discover paw prints and nature trails and see deer and owls and turkeys right at our back window. We sit cozily by the fireplace looking at each other.. how did we get this lucky?

Do I miss my house? Yes. But it's not my house any more. This is my house. The place our children will know as a safe and comfortable and loving place. It is where Mr. Kuda and I will grow together. It is sacred. It is our home.

Until next time,

Mrs. Kuda


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