It’s been one year since I moved from #wfwhitehouse and into this new place. Zach and I had a conversation recently where we both admitted to missing that big, old house. We had such dreams for that place. It’s taken this full year to really process the events of that time and some days, I still can’t believe it all.

If you missed it, the short story is that I bought a 100 year old house and renovated it top to bottom for myself to live in. It was big and beautiful, and as you can imagine, there were a lot of ups and downs in the renovation. The biggest was than I had $15,000 taken from me in the form of work I paid for that wasn’t done. This was the house that I dreamed of Zach, the kids, and I living in together some day. (Peep this Christmas photo for all my dreams for this house coming true.)

After just six months of living there, before I’d even finished and revealed the renovation, the parish bought it from me to build a fire station on that lot. It was a pivot that I never expected. It was the right thing to do, and yet still heartbreaking in so many ways. The house was auctioned off, bought by a family member of a previous owner, and moved just up the street. (Here’s where you can read all about my journey with this house.)

One full year later, I still can’t believe this is a true story. Someone told me once that for someone who leads a pretty simple and drama-free life, I have the strangest things happen to me. It’s so true. How many people do you know that are going on about their own business at their new home and someone calls to build a fire station there? Not many, I’d assume.

When I closed the doors at that house for the last time, it was like closing a chapter. I signed the papers and then went on about my day. I grieved the loss of that dream for weeks leading up to that final day, and once it arrived, I wasn’t that sad. I don’t think I cried at all that day. I think it was a coping mechanism for me. I closed the door and in my mind I was just done with that chapter. I thought about the house occasionally and I mostly just moved on from it. It’s now, a full year later, that I find myself thinking about it again.

This could be from the simple passing of time. That I shut off that part of my mind until it was safe to think about again. Until some time had healed the wounds. It could be because Zach and I have been talking about “what’s next” and that includes a ton of discussion about where we’ll all live together. If I still had that house, it would be a simple solution. I had already chosen bedrooms for the kids and had them decorated in my mind. Whatever the reason, I’m here at the one year anniversary of the move and I have to admit, I miss that old house.

I luckily had a place to move to, and this little place has been so good to me. It’s been comfortable and convenient and I’ll forever be grateful for the cozy home it’s been. When I started its renovation, I never imagined that I’d spend over a year here myself. When I met the neighbors, I never imagined seeing them everyday. I never saw Hank playing in the back yard or never even considered that we’d bring a small horse to live here too. I moved here out of necessity and almost immediately grew to love this little place. I got my bearings back in this house and I regained my confidence here.

I believe our homes are supposed to serve us and #wfwhitehouse was a place that broke me down and forced me to rebuild. This one, though — this one wrapped its loving arms around me and helped me heal. It helped me dream again and get settled in to who I am and who I want to become next. Relationships were grown here in this little house and when I look back on it for years to come, it’ll be with the fondest memories. That’s what home is supposed to be for us, isn’t it?

When I came here, I didn’t know how long I’d be here. All I knew at first, was that I wanted to sit still for a moment. I’d just lived in three different places in a six month period and been homeless for a bit in between. I needed stability and stillness. I needed a home that wasn’t full of boxes or plans to pack. I had no idea how long I would need to be still here. I just knew that I need to unpack everything and stay a while. It looks like a year is what I needed. We just closed on a property that we’ll eventually all live on together. For months, I lost sleep at night when Zach and I would talk about me moving somewhere else. My heart wasn’t ready for that and it made me so anxious. Now, I can talk about options and be excited for the future. For a minute there, I thought I might just have to grow old in this little, white house!

(All photos by Light + Free Folk. See the rest of them here. )