A house is more than walls and ceilings and floors. It is more than plaster and wood, brick and mortar. A house is feelings and memories. Especially memories.
We moved into our house when we had only one child. Since then, we've added four more. The house quickly turned into a home, filled with cribs and changing tables, toys and books. (Always books.) New carpet became stained, pristine walls took their share of dings and scrapes. Toddler-sized shoes evolved into size 12 basketball shoes.
Over the years, my husband and I talked about moving out and moving up. Each time, I resisted. How could we move away from memories? How could we move away from the house that was our home for more than 35 years?
Today, workmen are pouring footings for a new foundation for an addition that we are planning. Why build an addition now? Our children are grown, some with children of their own. They have their own homes, their own lives. And yet ...
In indefinable ways, our house is still home to them. We want it to welcome them, to welcome their children, to make this a gathering place.
So, for today, I am grateful for memories of home.