We looked at a lot of houses here in Four Seasons. The day we found the house we are in we looked at another house that was just strange in its layout, but we also looked at a house that had many features that we liked. It had a convection oven, it had a pet door, and it had a fireplace. But it didn’t speak to us. Perhaps it was in part that it was occupied, but we also didn’t really like the colors on the walls and the preciousness, if you will, of the molding throughout.
We have no fireplace, no convection oven, and we put our own dog door in the slider (well, my brother did, with a little help from me). But when we walked in we knew it was our home. It’s an intuitive thing for which there are no words. We experienced it when we looked at our house in Gilroy when it was new and unfinished. We experienced it here.
This is very much our home and we are delighted to have found it.
As we headed south Terry and I reflected on the fact that we had been in our house in Gilroy for eighteen years. What I realized was that was the longest I’d even been continuously in one place. We left the house I grew up in 1960 to spend three years in Barstow. We returned to that same house in the spring of 1963. When I headed off for my senior year of college in the fall of 1974, I never really returned. That’s eleven and a half years.
None of my stops between then and Gilroy even approached that. But we then ended up spending a full eighteen years in Gilroy, minus perhaps two weeks. That’s something.
But that’s also past. We’re here. We love our new house. We look to the present and we look ahead.