The Wait Is Finally Over
I ran into a friend at the supermarket today and shared the joyous news that we finally moved back home yesterday. Clearly she could see the relief on my face, and declared it only felt like yesterday that we actually moved out.
To me, our journey seems a little more epic than that.
It has taken a little over fourteen months from the day we moved out until we returned, and even though it took so much longer than I had anticipated I am positive that Hubby told a few white lies just to get me to agree to begin the reno in the first place. Honestly, if I had known it was going to take an entire school year, an Easter, two Christmases and New Years Eves, plus a winter with snow, I probably would have run for the hills screaming. He knows me better than anyone.
While we are still unpacking boxes and trying to get used to having so much cupboard space, we often find ourselves just standing. Looking. Admiring Hubby’s creativity and handiwork. Taking in our surroundings and trying to comprehend just how much effort he, The Boy and all the others who have pulled apart and propped, patched, plumbed and painted have given is astonishing. From demolition to decoration this was no mean feat, and for Hubby to even consider undertaking this project whilst working full time still has me shaking my head in wonder.
I can only speak for myself when I recall that there were plenty of moments of emptiness during the initial phase when the old place that we knew of as home for so long was dismantled piece by piece. It felt like a part of me was taken out with every load of rubble and bricks that the boys deposited in the backyard. I knew it had to be done but it’s sometimes difficult to let things go.
There are so many mixed feelings when you experience the “out with the old, in with the new” on such a personal level. Your home becomes a mere shell of everything that is familiar and then the process of reconstruction begins. Hubby could always envisage what would eventually unfold but I was never that insightful. I just had to place my trust in him.
As the days turned to weeks, and weeks into months, things seem to move so slowly. But then, they always did move forward. Never backwards. Thank heavens. The old bricks were cleaned and given new life, and walls that had never stood previously appeared to create new spaces to live in.
There were tears and tantrums, joy and laughter, dilemmas and choices to work through and Hubby never lost his patience or sense of humour. But throughout every stage we were so lucky to be living next door at Trish and John’s place. No words can describe how eternally grateful we are for their kindness and generosity.
We recall times of sadness, loss and despair as we said tearful goodbyes to Wombie and the possum babies. Our fury friends will always remain in our hearts and memories, and even though my eyes well up when I remember our little buddy, I smile knowing he is never far from home. All have been laid to rest on the land and their presence will be felt for many years to come.
We uncovered messages from the grave, and Hubby’s designs created amazing things from wood. We discovered why our only toilet was a weird shade of blue, and the lemon tree copped a beating when it was challenged by John and the Bobcat.
There were Mother v. Daughter bake-offs, broken wrists, and snow in the middle of winter. My best birthday present ever came in the shape of a fireplace, complete with flames and everything. Jigsaws were completed, and heads rolled, never to be found again.
Bricks and mortar are gone but the memories still remain. And already we are creating so many new ones it makes me smile.
Learning where the elusive light switches are will take a while yet. Not that it really matters. I’m not going anywhere in a hurry xx