This House

I shake my fist at the heritage artifice that is my home; often times cursing its poor construction and my naivety at being a first time home buyer. Against our better judgement, spurred on by excitement and the ultimate sign of independence, we waived the option for inspection. It was a brand new development surely it was built properly. It wasn’t.

Now I find that I fantasize about leaving this place and purchasing some land with a farm house nestled in its center. I live there most days, on this fantasy farm, picking fresh fruit and calling to my giggling children...

but something unexpected happened...

I choked up.

I fought back tears when my husband suggested we might have to go sooner than I was prepared for. Leave? But we only just got here. It seemed like we just moved in.

He apologized.

I chastised myself because its not his choice. When it's time to go – there is no debate. RCMP members are moved as often as every three years to reduce the chances of corruption and ensure impartiality. It doesn’t make leaving any easier, though. I tried to shake it off. Home is where the heart is. My heart is with them; with my sweet, beautiful, loving kids and him the husband.

But a part of me revolted against the reality. Leave my home? What about the measurements on the wall and the hardwood floor thats seen so many firsts, and we can't leave the bath I laboured in, or the yard they play in...

This house - It's only three years old, and I have lived here its entire life. A lifetime that has been spent standing tall during some of our family's most awe inspiring moments, and sheltering us during some of the worst trials we've ever endured.

It's a stubborn little house, a house with personality. And somewhere along the line this heritage artifice etched a place into my stone heart, cracked my hard facade and safely encased a million memories.

These walls, they whisper to me, they tell our story and if we leave it...will I somehow forget it all? So many events, so many beautiful, gut wrenching moments, so much life. How can I step away from that so easily?

It would seem I can't...

And so I have come to the only conclusion I can draw. I love this place. I love it despite its problems. I love it because it's more than a poorly constructed house, somewhere along the line it became a part of the family. And I find...somehow...my heart is here too, between these walls, drumming a percussive beat that flashes through memories and moments in a blink of an eye. A beat that simply says...

love them, love them, love them

I'm linking up with YeahWrite this week (June 11, 2012) with one of my favourite posts from this year.