Home

I have been married, to the same woman I might add, for twenty one years. We have been together for about twenty five years, over half of my life. While that in itself is pretty uncommon these days, it is not what is on my mind. Change is in the air.
Since we married in 1989 we have lived in six different homes, seven if you count that year of sin we tried before marriage. Five of these homes we owned and every time we sold we came out on top. A good track record based on some good decisions. We loved every home that we lived in, but not enough (I guess)to stay there forever. I will never forget coming home from work one day to a home on 11 acres that I had built myself. It was a beautiful and large home with every feature we dreamed about. Heart pine floors, ash cabinets, walnut built-ins, cypress ceilings and alot of sweat. We lived there five or six years, I think, and I was very proud of it. When I walked in the door PJ had this odd look on her face as she was sweeping the kitchen floor, and I asked her what was wrong. "We need more dirt and less house", she said. Time for a change.
When I was a kid I always thought if I had a home on 100 acres I would never want anything else. That had always been my dream and it sounded like PJ now shared it. So we begin to look for land and put our house on the market. Everything happened pretty fast at that point and we ended up with 80 acres, a small house and no mortgage. Taylor (my daughter) was pretty small at that point and really didn't seem to notice the cramped quarters. We eventually added on some more room and lived there for seven years. Seven years that Taylor went from 3 to 10 years old. The fun years.
Well the itch kind of got us again and we built a house in town. We kept the "farm" in the country and stayed there some weekends, but as time wore on we went there less and less. Somebody offered to buy the place after a year or so and we let it go. What had once been my lifelong dream was now just another place I had lived.
But as I sit here, scratching that familiar itch, I realize that something is different this time. It is not just PJ and I to think about, there are three of us now. Three decision makers. A wealthy investor once told me "if you let your kids make real estate decisions for you, you are making a big mistake". But that is not it. What I realize is that the last home I sold was where her memories began. It was home. I sold the door jamb that tracked her growth, in pen and pencil, for seven years. A lifetime.
The home we are in now is nice and we love it. PJ says that it "doesn't really seem like us", but I'm not really sure what "us" means. It is, once again, too large for three people, but that is a good problem to have. But for the last few months we have spending the weekends at a much smaller home we bought on the lake. Living on the lake has never been a dream of mine, but I like it. I think that more than liking the lake I like the closeness of a smaller home.
Taylor seems to be coming around to the idea of moving again, but we are going slow. I want her to be a part of the decisions we make, and to be happy with them. I want her to understand that a house is where you live, but a home is where your family is. Those marks on the doorjamb are probably gone by now. I can imagine the new owners pausing for a second before the paintbrush makes them a memory. Smiling as they realize that this house is now their home.