“Does your house have feelings? Is it grumpy, happy, or somewhere in between? How old is it? If it could tell a story, what would it tell?”
As I enter my new house, my two girls run forward through the hallway and up the stairs, most likely to claim their new bedrooms.
I call to them to be careful.
This is a fairly new house – modern, and seems to only be a couple of years old.
It’s joined together with four other houses, two on either side of it.
I get the feeling this house doesn’t enjoy having to share its space, wanting to be free and detached like some of the other houses on this street. It feels stretched, yet happy not to be empty any longer. It’s been alone for a while; living empty without a single soul to look after. Now it has a whole family and it seems up for the challenge.
This house is going to be full of memories soon. There will be pictures on the walls with the house smiling in the background with my two little girls.
Feeling the excitement from the house, I feel just as excited, ready to start a life here.
My husband comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. ‘Welcome home.’ he says to me.
I turn to him and smile. ‘Welcome home.’