Whenever I go into a model home, I always imagine that I could live in a clean, pristine and perfectly accessorized house if I just tried hard enough, if I could just get these other people who live in my house to buy into my dream. But the fact of the matter is, no one lives in a model home. And that’s why the cabinets aren’t beat up.
The cabinets in our house are beat up. There are stains on the carpet. The wallpaper in the bathroom is starting to peel in one place. The baseboards look like we host a roller derby in our home. There is place along the stairs where the paint is chipped. A tile in the bathroom is cracked. The list is endless.
When we had this house built ten years ago, we had some very specific things in mind that we wanted. AD wanted a place for our exercise equipment and I wanted a place to do my art and we both wanted a workspace in the garage. So we built a house to suit our desires and moved in. For a year or so, we lived in a constant state of intoxication fueled by new carpet vapors and nick-free cabinetry.
So the other day as I was cleaning and lamenting the toll that life that has taken on our cabinets and baseboards, I started thinking about how our life in this house has changed; how my art studio is now an exercise room and the exercise room is now a nursery little boy’s room. The workspace in the garage is now an overflow toy/sports equipment storage space. And my den is now a playroom and my breakfast room is now a perpetual school room.
I used to live in house with an art studio, pristine carpets and perfect cabinets. And now I don’t.
I used to have a big empty spot in my heart. And now I don’t.