Little House In The Big Peace

This is my last day here. Last night Daughter #1 went to her dad's to sleep since her bed now resides there. I miss her. Just as she was leaving for the night around 9 p.m. the lady who is going to find homes for Little Monster (the wee cat) and her kittens called to say that she was ready to take them and if we were able could we bring them by. I watched as the Daughters placed momma and her kittens in the box and we all said good bye to the sweet little cat that I raised from a new born kitten and handled only moments after she came out of her mom. It was hard to do, and there were tears.

It is early. I am showered and dressed and ready for the day. I had hoped for a sunny day since it is my last here. Not to be... the rain is coming down and suits my mood very well indeed. I have so much work to do and several hours of computer work before the computer is disconnected and placed in a box till we get to Nfld. But before I get to my work I decided on this post from the comfort of a computer as from now on til I get in Nfld I will have to be posting from my iPhone and no doubt mistakes will abound.

I have been ruminating on my home... my little log home... the home of my heart and the home of my dreams. For so many years when we moved to the Peace we were still a young couple... only married for just over 5 years. We had spent those years pouring money into someone else's pocket via rent. We really wanted a home of our own and for five more years we had to continue to rent. Finally we found a house that we both liked fairly well and we decided to buy. We went through all kinds of hell to come up with enough money for a down payment but buy it we did and it was good. Shortly after prices began to soar and we felt we had done very well to get something while the prices were still in our favour. Slowly this house appreciated in value and we watched our little home turn into a highly desired oasis. It was good.

But this house became more than a house of financial value.... somewhere along the lie our house became a home.  When does a house become a home? I can't say for sure but I loved this house and the surrounding area almost the minute I moved in... I knew that there would have to be changes made over the years to accommodate a growing family. For instance for the first three month the Daughters slept in our closet... and they couldn't stay there forever!

But we loved our new house regardless of the fact that there needed to be changes...

Everything was so barren when we moved in although I do have to say that we have lost so many of our old friends the pines. But our little home was sweet inside especially downstairs.

It was so bright and sunny and cheerful... but I knew that the kitchen had to change that first winter since there was burbur carpet on the floor and the only entrance to the house was  through it... every time someone came home from school there were boots and coats and back packs spilling all over the place and it was becoming a hazard. Tripping by the stove  was a regular occurance.  I didn't want to be harping on everyone all the time so things began to change.

Do houses become homes because of the changes? Cause if they do then we have certainly had plenty of those.

We brought in a log and closed off the cathedral ceiling so that we could have a bedroom for the Daughters... this was good, but then we needed the carpet taken out and flooring put down in the kitchen... so we did that and while we were at it we changed the fridge and stove so that the stove wasn't right in the area where everyone walks... I was terrified that one of the kids was going to fall and burn themselves badly on the oven door since it opened right in the pathway of the kitchen. There were still boots and coats all over the place and so I got the idea that a porch would be awesome and so to accommodate that we took out a window and put in a door, and in the process we lost our dining area.

In the process of moving the fridge and stove we had lost our pantry and so we decided to build a new on where the stove had been... it was not a hard task.... but we had a huge fight. That was the beginning.


We took off the steps to the house and moved them over to the new door and built on a new deck.  We both wanted the deck. It was done while I was enjoying my first sojourn to Olds.

But the deck became an oasis and soon we were not only happy with it but really glad that we had done it... We probably should have stopped there but we had always talked about an addition since the house was so small... and the girls were getting bigger and the fights due to sharing a room were becoming unbearable. We went to the bank and got a loan to accommodate the addition and lifting the roof to make the rooms upstairs better. By this time Sir Arsewipe had already left me in spirit. But he seemed fine and we were getting along through it all so well. It was being done by someone else and Sir Arsewipe only had to put on the finishing touches. I was helping. But our little house had become a home... a real home one that could take us into the future as a family of adults if we could just get the rest of the work done.

And so we worked on it and we both worked hard. But always I thought it was that we were doing the work together and making something better for all of us.  I thought we were both into it.

Every summer we would do a little bit more and sometimes we would work on it on spring vacation and so on... finish one job and on to the next.... soon we were starting to see real progress... we were getting there.

I was getting to be really proud of our odd little home that we had worked so hard on... And then.....


Perhaps I was too proud... but I know I loved it here in this little wee house... and it had become a home... we had lived in it to the best of our ability, with all the joys and sorrows that go with being a family.  We had gone through fun times and illnesses and losing pets and fights and makeups and pleasures and pains. It was the home of my heart. But I guess it wasn't the home of his.

So to get back to what I first stared to say.... what is it that makes a house a home...

Is it the Christmas trees enjoyed.

Or the family Christmas pictures taken....

Including the goofy ones...

Or more serious ones...

Is it the stockings hung...

Or the garlands strung...

Is it the gifts opened...

Is it the parties had....

Is it the meals served...

and the food cooked....

or the tea consumed....

or the dishes washed...

is it the wool spun or dyed or woven or taught....

Is it the barns built, or the gardens kept, or the decks decorated....

is it the animals cared for....

is it the illnesses cared for...

or is it the snow that fell....

or your husband being a goof ball....

Maybe it is watching your children grow to maturity....

I thought that we had it all in this wee home...

I'm not sure what makes a house a home... I have tried so hard to make the best home possible for my family... it hurts to look around and see that it was all such a resounding failure. But I will not be making a home for him anymore... I will instead do my absolute best to make a home for myself and my girls in the best way that I can.  This house was my home... but I am ready to leave it now... and though these last few months have been filled with heartache... a heartache that was initiated due in part to this house... I will always look back on this house as the home of my heart. I have lived in 18 different buildings and I can safely say that this ones was the best... the one I loved the most... the one I am sorry in so many ways to leave. I think what makes a house a home is the love that was found there and for my part I loved the hardest and the best in this house.

I wonder if I will ever find one as close to my heart as this one was. It is the first home I ever owned and I owned it with the man I loved the most and my two most beautiful children. It is the home where I passed from being a young woman to a middle aged woman. The things that pass in your younger years never happen again. It makes it that much more poignant.