This is the week things begin.
Contractors will be chosen, contracts will be signed, various papers will fly around, and keys will be exchanged. For the first time in a long time it is beginning to feel real, this little project ahead.
The kids are starting to think about their rooms, I’ve peeked at bathroom fixtures online. Possibly some floors, too. I may or may not have sketched out a space plan, but I don’t necessarily trust it yet. I’ve tried to visualize the light in each room in various times of day. I’ve picked a color story for one of the bathrooms. I’ve considered dimensions for just the right art piece in certain locations. I know what the fireplace to be added will look like.
But, it’s still not “my” house. Not yet.
It’s Meme’s house still. The kids call it that, and, in my head, it’s the first thing that comes to mind for me as well. I am consciously starting to say “the house” now because at some point everyone is going to have to feel like it is “our” house, but it’s not quite right to jump straight to that name.
I’m not sure when that will happen, if there is some moment or milestone where a switch is flipped and “our” is okay, but eventually it will happen. There’s a part of me that is quietly waiting off to the side with an eyebrow ready to arch and head ready to nod when it does. We may even spot each other across the room and slightly raise champagne flutes when it does.
But, until then, it’s okay to mentally try and figure out where those champagne flutes might go.