what I learned

Logical thinking aside, I'm still on the lookout for a new house when we move to our new city. My realtor there is fueling the fire, because she has me on an automatic update alert so I can view new properties as they come on the market. That's what I've asked her to do...and it really is fun being in the buyer position (or at least, the fantasy buyer position.)


I've given some thought to how things went when we were touring around last week, looking at neighborhoods, considering suburbs, looking at houses. And what I've learned is that I am who I am, there is no changing me. Better to realize that now than to keep going on a wild goose chase.

What I like in a house: old, charming, character. Mature trees. Pretty streets with houses that are just as pretty as the one I'm in. Newer homes on newer streets just don't hold the same appeal to me, much as I love the space in the new kitchens & baths, and especially new closets and mud rooms.


When I think about it, it makes perfect sense that I like what I do. When I was growing up, my parents kept us in the same city but moved us around a bit. Every house was old, or older. One was downright ancient (built in 1817.)


My grandparents lived in the same city and both sets lived in older homes. My dad's parents lived in a home that was a cavernous maze of bedrooms upstairs. The downstairs was just as unique, as was the property it sat on.


When my husband and I got married, we looked for an apartment in Chicago that we could call our own. We found the perfect one in the middle of Lakeview. It was old: transom windows above the doors, a little wood-burning stove, magnificent old windows, 12-foot ceilings. It was drafty and the wood floors were slightly slanted, but I loved it. After we moved out it was razed for new construction, and though we've been down the street since, I couldn't even tell you what the new place looks like, except to say that it looks just like the new one next to it.


Something else I've learned about myself when it comes to finding our next home is that I can't compromise. It's just not enough for me to like it. I must love it. My house is too much of a source of pride for me, too integral a part of myself. It's an expression of me. I have be in love with that expression. It was the same for the city apartment and the Little Cottage here. Both I have loved. Both I will remember and cherish the time I spent in them for the rest of my life.