I know which of my kids make the hole that that not-yet-sanded spackle is filling. I think I know why it’s there, and I know when.
That hole is part of what makes my house a home.
Recently, I asked a client how she was doing in her new home. Her response reflected something that I have long known my clients feel, but I’d never fully thought on that feeling.
Yep, we’re doing well! House doesn’t feel like home yet. I still think of it as (their) house. It might be the paint . . . . or maybe it just takes a bit more time.
- Paint something.
- Drop something on a floor and make a new mark.
- Give your kid(s) some paint and let her play on the carpet.
- Lock yourself out … and find your way back in. 🙂
- Leave the Christmas tree up too long.
- Make a mark on the wall. And leave it.
- Start measuring your kid. Or yourself. And marking that on the wall.
There’s a mark in my house that I look at every time I go downstairs. It’s where the guys who moved our mattress in scraped the wall. I’ve meant to touch it up. For about 4 years.
The piece of the wall where we measured our girls for 12 years. And counting.
The area of the floor where I dropped a knife and almost severed my toe (Martha Jeff is about 24 minutes from my house!)
A home is a lot of things to a lot of people. To me, it’s a place – one of many – in which we aggregate memories and feel safe.
Even when one of my kids puts a hole in the wall.