I’ve heard it said that many little girls dream of their future wedding. Although I am not entirely sure of this, I know that I didn’t. I dreamed of my future home. Both of my parents were carpenters and as a result I spent a lot of time on construction sites. At age five my favorite activity was hammering nails into a 2 by 4 that my dad had set-up for me. When we were at the office I sat with graph paper and architecture stencils and designed my dream home, drawing spiral staircases and fanning through paint swatches.
Now the sketches on the page have finally become a reality. Jeff and I have found ourselves in a little home on top of a hill in San Francisco.
On our first night we ordered in, lit a fire, and camped out on the floor of our new living room. The very next day our family knocked on the door with paint brushes in hand. We picked between large painted swatches on the walls as the ceilings were getting their first coat of white.
That very same weekend, one of the first things we did was plant the little lemon tree that my dad gave us when Jeff and I moved into our first apartment together. There is something so nurturing about laying down actual roots. It is official, we have our first home.