A Letter To My First House

Dear First House,

You are perfect.

Okay. So you're not.

But that's okay, because neither am I. We can work on this.

I am so very proud to call you mine. Sorry that you probably won't be as proud to be called mine. I'm kinda messy, sort of, a lot. But you'll look pretty. I'll decorate your walls with art. I'll cover your floors in carpets. I'll paint your sides in as many different shades of obnoxious orange as I can find, slightly off hue from each other (just enough to be noticeable, but not enough to be obvious) just to frustrate the neighbors. You will probably not have a garden. But you will have a backyard with some grass, a small tree, and two dogs.

You are old, but that's okay because there is wisdom with age.

You annoy my husband. But he'll live. He'll grow to love you. More because he'll have to fix you when I can't and take care of you while I'm away.

You will always smell nice, because I'll always be cooking, or at the very least have really comforting air freshener.

You will never be completely dark. I will hang lantern lights on your porch, and christmas lights along the tops of your living room walls, and light candles in the dining rooms.

You will never be completely empty.

The dogs may chew on you a little bit, and so may the kids, but we'll patch you up again.

Together we will make a home.

I can't wait to live in you.

Sincerely,

Me, a ways away from finding you.