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A House Does Not Equal a Home

Published April 13, 2013 - 0 Comments

I’m buying a house.  If everything falls into place May 16 I will take ownership of a nice bungalow and begin moving my life forward.

I’ve had more than a few people say how happy they are for me… yet they seem more excited about this than I am.  That’s because it’s true.  I’m buying a house.  It’s a great house.  But it’s still just a house.  I know that I will enjoy living in it.  I know that my kids will love it.  I assume that over time my feelings toward it will shift.  I hope so.

Please do not think that I am ungrateful.  I understand that there are people reading this who maybe are not in a position to buy a house, and would love to be announcing that they are.  I understand that.  I am fortunate enough to have crawled back from near-financial and personal ruin, and am now seeing some positive results.  But do not be fooled by the illusion.  I’d trade it all for a leaky cardboard box if that box felt like home.  Don’t believe me?  Oh I think that there might be one or two of you who do.

I gave up looking for a home.  It just wasn’t going to happen.  So I settled for a house.  It’s a means to an end.  A way to get closer to my kids.  To see them more.  To be a better parent.  I don’t deny that there are real benefits to buying this house.  But it’s a bittersweet moment for me.  This entire process has created an empty void, and that’s not going to be filled by a structure, no matter how seemingly perfect it may appear to some people.

Satisfied?  Sure.

Excited?  Not even a little.