We have been living in our own house by ourselves for a year now. We used to stay with my parents until our daughter was more than two years old, because we were waiting for our house to finish. And now, looking back, it was truly a year that we lived as a small and starting family.
A few months ago, I have ranted to my husband some stuff in our house that I didn’t like. Like how I can never seem to start fixing up our daughter’s room because it’s currently a stockroom. How the water is free but sometimes smells like rust. How there isn’t a drain on the part of our bathroom near the sink, causing some water to stay on that part of the c.r.. And a lot more…
But we have survived! We got by! And for that, we are grateful.
It’s frustrating sometimes, with all the problems we share with the other homeowners in our village. But it’s a house we call our own! It’s a house we’re paying for ourselves. It’s the house that we will have our names on the title once the mortgage payments are done. And it’s the house where we can always be ourselves, despite the mess the toddler makes.
It’s where we rest, and where we continue to dream. We may live her for the next ten years or more, or maybe decide to move to a bigger house when our small family gets bigger. But this one, the one where we currently are, this will always and forever be our first home.