New year, big changes!

I'm a firm believer that the best thing God made was one day after another. Each day presents itself as an opportunity for re-invention, for changing what we don't like about ourselves or our lives, for re-evaluating and re-calibrating our relationships, our external influences.

2012 dawned such a year for us with a move back to our old house (built in 1930) in the tiny city next to the capital of the state. We left this house and rented it in 2008 when I was given a tenure-track position in my small college on the hill. Last fall, we started thinking long and hard about the possibility of coming back, after the tenants wanted to have the house tested for lead and the estimate for fixing a part of the problem (common in all houses built before 1978) was financially daunting. When the tenants notified us that they were moving out, ironically unrelated to the lead issue, what was a thought became a reality. While there was a good chance that this house could be re-rented easily, the likelihood that we'd get as good tenants was remote and now that we've moved back we've noticed how much the house itself has deteriorated, as it would continue to do so since we would not want to invest much on it while it was being rented.

The truth is that while we've loved our spacious house near my small college on the hill, it was more isolated and isolating than either one of us liked. We're both walking people and I couldn't easily walk anywhere, not even to take the dogs out, except on the lovely nearby trails. But those same trails have been nearly impassable this year because of the record rain, which has turned them into mud pits, making them a whole lot less attractive or functional.

Thus, we moved on Three Kings Day, a fitting present for both of us, because we have found that we have a special place in our hearts for this old house, despite its many problems and its constant need for attention and maintenance. One of its greatest challenges is the 90-degree turn at the top of the stairs, which made it impossible for my husband and his moving helper to get our box spring to our bedroom. Or a large chair to his office, as we'd originally planned. We have Plan B for the box spring, which we'll be trying this weekend, hopefully, since sleeping without a box spring is something I haven't done since my college days.
 

Yesterday, we were able to move enough cooking utensils and pots so that I was finally able to make a home-cooked meal on our gas stove (another thing we really like about this house) and by this morning, Lizzy and Hamlet were already riveted by the huge flock of sparrows visiting the old, rusted feeder, which had been abandoned since we moved out.

I thoroughly cleaned the feeder, re-filled it, and today it's like we've never been gone. There's tons of work to do in the house to get it to where we want it, and once our situation stabilizes after the other house is either sold or rented, we'll make more improvements here. We've always joked that we revamp our houses and then leave them so that other people enjoy the changes, not us. But this time we're committed, God willing, to staying here and making the most of this house for ourselves.

In the end, this house is much older and smaller than our "country estate," as a friend described it, and my office is now in the basement, lacking the window with a view to the backyard. But, as my husband said this morning: "This feels like home." And I agree. We've definitely come back.