I’ve been spending all together way too much time on Trulia, Zillow and Realtor.com. We are going to be making a move shortly so I’ve been flipping through homes for sale as if they are possible matches on Tinder.
What’s so interesting is how my tastes have evolved.
In my twenties, it was about affordability. Curb appeal was hardly a concern; we needed a roof over our heads! Ironically the tiny townhouse we eventually purchased in California made us more money in three years than any other subsequent home we have ever owned.
In my thirties we saw our sprawling, suburban, dream home in Miami destroyed by Hurricane Andrew. It was at that point that I realized how important community was..and ours was completely torn asunder. We spent way too much money and way too much time transforming this 5 bedroom ranch into a vision of perfection that was ultimately sacrificed to the wind.
Our next home in the keys was a yellow and white gingerbread cutie. It was small with no yard…and we didn’t care. The kids would bike on the pebbly roads, swim and fish. It was the laid back, polar opposite of our previous highly manicured life. I was cured from wanting the BIGGEST home with the BIGGEST yard.. all I cared about was good homeowner’s insurance.
We replaced the bright wood with dark brick when we got to Pittsburgh. Our house was warm and inviting with a big fireplace, but the neighbors on our street were the true secret sauce. I get tears in my eyes just thinking about the lifelong friendships each one of us created with some of the very best people on earth. Before we left, I had turned 40.
Fast forward and we’re back in Florida..a small house once again, but perfect for us as we both turned 50 and had fewer kids at home. We didn’t want a lot of work..and this house we’re in truly fit the bill. This one is a keeper- and we’ll be back.
So now we’re looking in the Carolinas..
And guess what? All of a sudden a perfect, new home seems sterile to me. I find myself attracted the older, smaller places that have bathrooms with black and white little tiles on the floor… built in bookcases slapped up with a few coats of paint..and a nice, bright, old fashioned mud room for my gardening boots.
I want a place that has nurtured a family
I want simple, comfortable, imperfect, ‘mature.’
I want a place with character, great bones and good stories..
a home with “experience”…
I guess I’m looking for a house..
kinda like me.