Twenty-one years ago, freshly divorced with a three-year-old daughter, I went house hunting. We went to open houses every Sunday, looking through house ads, studying neighborhoods, and finally settling on a two-family house in an historic district. Hardwood floors, working fireplaces, a tenant to help pay off the mortgage - perfect.
Over the years we've moved out, moved back in, switched sides a time or two, remodeled, opened up walls and closed them again. This house has sheltered many, many people through good times and bad. Our backyard has seen many a pool party and barbecue. Christmas has come and gone in peace and prosperity many times. It's been our Home.
The mortgage will be paid off within the next two years. The house's value has remained stable through the bipolar real estate swings of the last 20 years. Purchasing this house in this neighborhood might be the only solid financial decision I ever made LOL.
Today, I'll clean. I'll prepare dinner for my daughters, my grandchildren, and a dear friend who was one of the fledglings who found this home a safe place from which to launch herself. We'll rake leaves and throw grandkids into the piles. I'll be At Home.
We so often take for granted the security of our homes. The price of this house figured heavily in our decisions about Babygirl's health care during that first scary year where the bills just kept coming, and coming, and coming. We knew we could cover it all if we had to by selling or mortgaging (and thankfully had to do neither). Those of us who have at some time in the past lost a home or been homeless never, ever lose our appreciation of a stable, safe home.