Our house, its ours.

The weirdest part about being in a new house is the sounds. I hear kids laughing and falling down and riding bikes. And we have birds, so many birds. Our next door neighbor is one million years old and deaf, she's lived in the house next door since it was a chicken farm and there were no other houses for acres around, her stories fill afternoons. High school boys walk thru the alley in baseball uniforms on their way to games at the ball fields a block away. I can see the neighborhood kids congregate through my kitchen window. On a sunny Saturday you can hear the crack of their bats and the cheer of their families. Instead of walking to work I now take the bus which is both amazing (I can read twice as much now) and annoying (seriously, can't you just show up on time and please can the other people waiting for the bus not be icky dudes who leer at me? Please!). Oh yeah and I have a garden. A real honest to goodness garden with herbs and flowers and vegetables and blueberries of course. I have a gardening knee pad and gardening gloves and gardening tools. Our front yard is like an oasis in the desert. Everything smells amazing (lavender, rosemary, fresh cut grass, roses, strawberries, tomatoes) and you can kindof sink into a sunbeam and feel like the city and everything involved does not exist. After a week of being here I already know every creaky board and crack in the wall. Home has been redefined. The bluejay, the grass, the worms in the earth, the basement door and every creaky board is ours and that feels amazing in a huge way. If the house starts caving in I will do everything I can to hold it up. I love it. Its part of our family now. I love it even though the bathroom is so small you have to sit sideways on the toilet and there are slugs in the yard because its my family and you forgive those little indiscretions.