I bought a house back in March. It’s been almost six months and I’m still telling people that I love my house but I keep waiting for the moment when it actually feels like mine. I keep thinking something will click, something will change, and suddenly the house will feel like I truly own it.
Last night, as I pulled into my driveway, I realized something. How I feel about this house is never going to change. It doesn’t need to.
It’s felt like mine since the moment I first walked inside.
When I go out in the evening, I usually leave the light on above the kitchen sink. It’s partly so I don’t accidentally let the cats out the back door when I get home. But more than that, it just makes the house look like it’s waiting for me.
Prior to closing on my house, I drove passed it almost every day. I told my mom that I drove by because I wanted to say hi. She once asked if the house said hi back. I of course told her that it winked at me.
The house was empty when I bought it so during all of those late night drives passed it was completely dark. Even then, it seemed so welcoming. It was always waiting for me to fill it.
Now, my house is rarely dark. If it was winking then, it’s laughing now.
I take pride in the fact that, even as a single woman who lives alone (perhaps because of that), my house is usually full of friends and family, engaging conversation, and overly full glasses of wine for anyone who wants one. Living alone never bothers me. If anything, it makes it easier for me to open my house to others.
This summer, I have a short term roommate. She gave me the greatest compliment a few weeks ago.
“The longer I live here and get to know you, the more I realize that your house is a perfect reflection of your personality.”
I could have hugged her.
Buying a house as a single woman who has spent most of her life searching for the next best thing should have been scary. With this house, it never was. It just felt right from the very beginning.