House Anniversary

A year ago, I walked into a sun-filled house and said out loud to my friend and realtor, “this is my home.”

Looking back it was a presumptuous and naive statement to make for a house that was over my budget in a vacation town where homes were scooped up within a day after multiple offers presented. Under normal circumstances, I would have never gotten that house.

But it wasn’t normal circumstances. It was March 2020, the world was on the verge of a shutdown, and most people were standing still to see where they landed, not buying real estate.

But I walked in and knew. This was my home.

2 years prior, I had left my loft in Detroit - my home with Brad - to live in the wild of Northern Michigan. I was in search of some semblance of normal that didn’t resemble the life I had before he died.

At first, I spent my days walking the shoreline, hunting for Leland Blues, hiking the cliffs that overlooked the water, and starting and ending each day with a dip in the lake. Bonfires in the sand as the sun slipped below the horizon replaced nights in crowded bars. I started to find peace. I started to find myself again.

And then within months, I moved my dad into my spare bedroom of my little rental house and so much of my time became taking care of him - making the daily commute into town for dialysis and treatment and doctors appointments. I spent my days exhausted - measuring pills, checking blood sugar levels, and learning how to operate gadgets that would keep my dad alive.

We had an impossibly challenging and beautiful 18 months together.

And then, I was once again left in a house filled with medical equipment I know longer needed and difficult memories I no longer wanted.

I needed a fresh start. One that didn’t involve cancer and caregiving. One that didn’t focus on my past trauma, but instead my future possibilities.

Then I walked into this sunlit house on the lake, at the beginning of a global pandemic, somewhat impulsively made an offer (thanks to the help of my equally impulsive sister who helped fund this act of insanity), and made this house my home.

And just like that, my next chapter began.