One year ago we further solidified our status as adults in the successful purchase of our first home. It really almost didn't happen. It truly is something of a miracle that it did, because the months and even years leading up to Thanksgiving day last year were a struggle. We had tried our hardest to make a life Upstate work, but were stuck reaping the consequences of a few poor decisions. It wasn't working out. For a while, we began to think that the heavens had decided against our living in this quiet, beautiful country. For awhile, we gave up and looked at other options, all of which involved some other place, most of which were far from here, all of which were much less quiet or beautiful. After a number of failed attempts to make a permanent habitation, we felt done trying.
And then in the midst of searching other ideas, other places, other destinies, by a twist of fate we learned of a little green house in the middle of absolutely nowhere that suited us so well. We called up the realtor from our past and she got us out to see it at the soonest possible moment, but our grand tour ended with her declaration of two offers already under consideration. I felt deflated. Again. Maybe heaven was laughing at me? We offered anyway, that very night, but we had no expectations, or if we did, they were expectations of the most unexpecting kind. Even after our offer was accepted, we didn't get excited, barely broke a smile. We just waited, no breath held, no hopes placed on pedestals, no anticipatory announcements. We just waited, still ready to move on, walk away, start anew. We just waited, while miracles unfolded, near seamless transitions materialized. And then a happy ending. Or beginning.
To celebrate one year in our darling home, PTB got me a much-appreciated cheese grater, because every real home needs a working cheese grater (our old one no longer functioned). I will honor the occasion by dedicating a few posts on the old blog to our little house, so be on the look out.
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