Everyone said we would know it when we found it. Everyone said “it will feel like home”. But I knew that everyone was wrong.
On the drive over to meet our real estate agent for our third set of showings, I told my husband. “People said the same thing about my wedding dress, too. People said I would ‘just know’. I’m not that kind of person. I don’t get those gushy, intuitive feelings.” He agreed. He said I’m a more practical, logistical kind of person.
So, I tried to keep an open mind. I walked through house after house after house. “I like it,” I said. “It’s nice,” I agreed. I did like those houses. I did think they were nice. Any one of them could have been our new home. They seemed interchangeable to me.
We approached the last house. The last house on the last day of searching. We opened the door, and…
This was our house.
My eyes looked past the ugly wallpaper and the odd paint colors. My hands ran over the appliances that need to be replaced in the kitchen. My feet stepped over a stain in the family room carpet. And my heart knew.
There was something about this house. This house had…. character. This house has a story to tell, and our little family of four is part of that story.
My husband and the real estate agent started talking about taxes and homeowner’s associations and fences. Their voices drifted away from my ears as I walked from room to room to room. Upstairs, downstairs, upstairs again. Maddie’s room. Katie’s room. Yes, this was the house.
I came down the stairs to find my husband. Our eyes met, and I saw that he knew too.
I can’t explain it. It felt like home.
Turns out I am that kind of person after all.