I have lived in many domiciles.
Only including the houses my husband and I have owned- I count 9. NINE. Holy shit.
If you had asked me when I was little if this is how I saw my life unfolding I would have said two things: ‘No’ and ‘Interesting’.
I sometimes ask myself ‘why?’ and, of course, the hard facts are clear: career choices- and they still are, but there’s also been my willingness to keep pushing the proverbial envelope along side my husband- being masters of our own plan. Stretching our Universe.
I was raised in a town where most people stayed put in only one house for the better part of a life time (or until divorce required a change of affordable address).
My mother lived in the home she and my father built- for 31 years.
The longest I’ve lived in a home of my own has been 10+ years (but in all honesty, one time someone knocked on our door and asked us what it would take to sell).
Very early on in our marriage two things happened at the same time: First, growing a career meant being willing to go where opportunity knocked, and secondly, we made a shit load of moola in each and every resale.
This was before HGTV and the idea of ‘flipping’ homes.
Turned out I had a knack for it, much like baking a cake: Take some basic ingredients and turn it into a delicious dessert. With the addition of a little of this and a pinch of that, you had a party everyone wanted to be invited to. Noise makers included.
I could have sold tickets and sometimes I have- to raise money for a ’cause’ in the form of a house tour.
Ben and I have owned two condo’s, two different second homes, tall homes and short. Homes in three states, two counties, one parish. Some in Cities. Some the burbs. Water. Water. Everywhere- or not. Sometimes mowed lawn and concrete sidewalks. Sometimes just down the street.
We have friends all over the country and several cities we know like the back of our hands. Many places we feel ‘at home’ in and several more to explore.
But the one place we’ve never hung our hats is in the country. The God blessed green valleys of a gentrified rural nature. The kind of place where you go for a walk on your own back 40 and get Blue Apron delivered by noon. The kind of place where you can watch your grandkids grow.
I think the country is calling…
And I’m baking cake.