Our fondest memories of our first home all surround an angeled, cozy room - warm, with a wood burning fireplace.
So many moments were shared in that small room.
Cold, tired bodies sat on that very floor seeking warmth from the amber glow of our fireplace after a long snowshoeing adventure in fresh fallen snow.
Breakfasts were eaten and wine sipped slowly, as only wine should be enjoyed.
We loved that room and we adored the warmth and crackling joy of that fireplace.
We painted, we cleaned, we tiled, we decorated; all little makings of turning a house into a home.
We planted beautiful flowers from my parents gardens, with the hope that the spring would bring fresh lilac blooms whose fragrance would dance through the windows making each room sing in their delight.
We laughed, we loved, we cried and we lost in that house.
We celebrated holidays where my precious nephew slept under twinkle lights of the Christmas tree glow. We made memories and we harvested new moments and we said goodbye.
We closed a door to two short years and wondered if that door would ever re-open for us again.
The door remained closed and we will never reside in our sweet place again.
Though our memories were dear, it was time.
We sold our first home in April after the honest realization that our home had once again turned into a house, but this time, a house that was no longer ours.
Renting from thousands of miles away proved to be more of a headache than anticipated and with an unknown future, it was time to cut ties and let our once cozy retreat drift into the arms of a new owner.
Now we walk free, homeless yes, but lighter.
There is a sense of freedom in owning and owing nothing.
It is a sweet release with a touch of weightlessness.
For now renting our flat is perfect, but one day, one day in the distant future we might embark on ownership again, but today, we make our home where ever life takes us.
Toby and Robert...
Toby chillin' on the couch.
