three homes

Our first house was a fixer-upper. It was a one-family home which sat apologetically among two-family homes, all of which were stolid and well-kept, on a residential city street. It was built before 1920; a Sears "kit" type of cottage with a modest front porch, clapboard siding on the first story and wooden shingles on the second. It came replete with a little yard and a dilapidated garage which shared a driveway with our back neighbors. I loved the stained glass window in the living room; a "piano-window" I was told. I loved the row of double-hung windows that graced the front of the house. I loved the endless projects: wallpapering the kitchen, stenciling the front rooms, choosing the paint colors, scrubbing the hopelessly dated bathroom. Mostly, I loved that it was ours. We lived there for about two years.
Our second house was every wife's dream. Hubby built it himself. It was a two-story colonial farmhouse with a wrap-around porch. It sat at the end of a long drive on ten acres of private country field and woods. A sizeable creek ran behind it that provided us with seasonal swimming, fishing, and waterfall-lounging. It boasted an open dining room that we used a lot. It had wide-board pine floors throughout, and enough room for two Christmas trees, four kids, a grandma, and a bevy of guests at any given time. We lived there for over thirteen years.
Now we reside in our third home. We have lived here for over five years. It is an old brick farmhouse that we remodeled into something I have grown to love the best. It is very company-friendly as it has a large kitchen island, a guest room, a large living room which can host family concerts, and a family room that happens to be soundproof from the rest of the house. (Every house should have one of these. It comes in handy when some people want to go to bed while others want to make noise.)
Homes are what you make them. I often wonder about the people that lived in our homes after us. I heard that one couple got a divorce, which astounded me. Now the husband lives there alone. How sad!
Perhaps I chose to write about this today because it is a rainy day and I had time to reminisce.
Also, this afternoon I am washing curtains and windows and that always makes me think of my first little home and the many windows I had to polish.