This week my guest blogger is David Brassard, my husband. It fills my heart to read his words. He brings light to how potent and influential experiences are when we stay present to the impact they have on our lives.
Thanks for traveling with me, I love you.
Sarah and I have recently completed moving to a new home. After spending 23 years raising our family in the sprawling farmhouse, we designed, built, and lovingly maintained, we began the process of downsizing. Just over a year ago, we moved to a temporary (and relatively small) rental on a scenic hilltop in rural NH.
We took with us our favorite pieces of furniture, photographs, art, and assorted knick-knacks. We sold or gave away a lot “stuff” we had accumulated over the years and stored the rest. Sarah and I spent 14 extremely happy months in our new, albeit temporary, home.
This spring, we moved into our new house. Now we’ve got more space to live in, for our children to visit, and for grandchildren-to-be (and of course our dogs!). We spent a few weeks packing a few boxes here and there. Then the movers came to finalize packing – cardboard box after cardboard box; packing tape and paper everywhere! By the end of the day, the small house that we had called ‘home’ was transformed.
After a very long day, the trauma of moving began to settle in. We were uprooting and transplanting of the most basic, core elements of our life. We were exhausted, but eagerly anticipating moving day.
As it neared, the walls were bare, no photos of our families, favorite places, and memories. The floors were now covered with boxed up ‘stuff’, no familiar rugs beneath our feet. Even the basement and garage were barren.
As I stood looking at the house, it occurred to me that this place, this house we’d lived in, was the same house, defined by the same walls, floors, windows, doors and ceilings it was yesterday. But now it was different. As Sarah and I stood there on our last night, I realized that the house, this building, was no longer our home.
It was crystal clear to me at that moment what made up our home. It was the two of us, and all of our belongings. That night we were nostalgic for the small house on the scenic hilltop in rural NH that we had called home for the last year and a half. It was at that moment that it came to me; our ‘home’ was coming with us.
As I write this, having spent just a couple of short weeks in our new house, I realize that we’ve started to refer lovingly to this place as home. We worked tirelessly to unpack the boxes, try different arrangements of familiar things, and incorporate some of those storage items, to create and define this new space. I’m writing on the same desk, sitting in the same chair. The bookcases and their contents, the plants, the pencil holder and desk blotter are all familiar and comfortable.
We have all new walls, floors, ceilings, and windows – but our stuff is here, and we’re here, and it’s home.
By David Brassard