Welcome Home

We exited the car, not saying much, but feeling the significance of this moment. I looked at my husband, he at me, both of us at our daughter.

"Ready?" I asked to no one in particular, but waiting for an answer from someone.

We lined up, my husband first and then I, my daughter completing our sequence from biggest to smallest or tallest to littlest, depending on your perspective and definition of biggest. Our silence wasn't that of the somberness that is experienced in saying good bye, but of the solemn beauty that comes with the closure of one changer and the beginning words of another. It was comfortable silence - deep, heavy, comfortable silence.

The potpourri of pastel colors shaped into flowers, marred with silver streaks created by scraping, entered the lock on the door knob, my husband jiggling it to get it to perform its intended task. A few more jiggles up, down, and left and the lock pops and with a turn of the knob, the door is open in one of those Ta-DA moments that you see on television where the path to salvation is illuminated by a glimmering, silver light and angels sing.

"Our home, Papa Bear," I say, hugging him around the waist, taking this emotion in. Our. Home. He kisses my forehead and my daughter joins us for one of those family hugs that blankets during celebration and comforts during dark times. We stood in our new living room, enamored with the space and carpet and quiet. To our right was a hallway, leading to bedroom one, bathroom one, and bedroom two. we walked down the hall, appreciating the height of the ceilings, the newly laid carpet at our feet, and the central heating and air unit on the wall.

"This can be my toy room!" my daughter said as we entered the first bedroom. She must have been giving this some serious thought because she then dictated where everything would go.

"Oh! My very own bathroom and shower! It needs to be pink!" she say, bouncing up and down, a smile wide and eyes bright.

"And for company, " I interject.

"My very own bathroom for me and company," she corrects herself, then grabs my hand to lead me to the main attraction - her bedroom.

"Mom, Swamp Daddy, look!" she said with an excitement children reserve for special things like Christmas and Easter, "I have not one, but TWO windows!"

My husband and I look at each other and smile.

"And look! Look! Look at my big closet! And shelves! Look how big it is!"

"I know, baby! Look how lucky you are!"

"This is the best house ever! I love this house!" she said, tears forming in her eyes.

"I'm glad! Mommy really loves this house, too!" I said, with tears now forming in my eyes.

We make our way back down the hallway, across the living room, and into the kitchen. We are greeted on one side by cupboards, drawers, a dishwasher, and the refrigerator and on the other side more cupboards and the stove. A little bit further down is a pantry, a dining area, an utility closet with a washer and dryer. New appliances, the lot of them. Then into the bedroom and the master bedroom with two sinks, the garden tub, the walk-in closet, the shower, and the commode.

"Do you like it, Papa Bear?" I ask, knowing the opinion held by the easily excitable feminine elements of our family.

"I don't like the wall paper, but it does have so much more room and I love being out in the sticks," he said.

"So..." I ask, waiting to get the appropriate girl response I am hoping for.

"I'm glad we have our home, Baby Bear."

I beam.

"Me, too!" my daughter add.

Our home. Our first real home.