What makes a house a home?

Blogging about my house issues made me feel better yesterday. Today as I was driving to work I was thinking about how blogging can be so therapeutic to me. Sometimes I wonder if I just use this as an outlet to bitch. But who cares? It's my blog and often I feel like I can say things on here that I can't say in 'real life'.

I am feeling so sad today. I have never felt so scared in my life. Except once.

When I was about 20 I remember coming home to my parents house in Corpus Christi from college in Austin and having an epiphany. I can't remember what triggered it or how the emotions came on. But I vividly remember that Sunday as I was packing up for the drive back to Austin. I had this sadness pass over me. I realized that my parents home did not feel like home to me anymore. It wasn't anything they had said or done, and if I had even an idea of moving back they would have jumped at the chance (and even today they still would). But up until that point I would always say to friends or family, "I am going home for the weekend to visit my parents."

That particular weekend visiting 'home' didn't feel like home to me anymore. It probably hadn't for a short while, and it just took me that moment to realize it. I was so upset. I remember crying to my parents and them kind of laughing and joking and my Mom tearing up. I didn't know how to put it into words until later that I felt a loss of my youth. This was it, this was adulthood. I had to create the home I wanted from here on out. I was scared to have so much responsibility, and I remember being freaked out that people trusted me to make major life decisions. I can truly remember watching my parents wave their goodbyes as we drove out of the driveway. It was one of the hardest things I have ever done. It got better of course, and I remember watching the movie "Garden State" a year or so later and Zach Braff's character experiencing something very similar. I guess we all go through that rite of passage.

Today I am feeling the same emotions. I never thought that finding a home would be such an experience. When we bought our first home we were just so excited and we didn't fret over the little things. We closed on our home the week we got married, three days before our wedding. We didn't even have a list of must haves... except a bedroom, a kitchen and a bathroom would have been nice. We didn't care where we lived or even think much of it. We love our house so much and it was so much more than we thought we could ever have, even though we have outgrown its 1128 square feet.

This time has been so different. It isn't even the list of things I won't compromise on...it's other things. When I walk into these houses (and to give you an idea we saw 26 houses on Friday...twenty-six and I am not exaggerating). When I step into the door I try to picture myself living there, cooking in the kitchen, cuddling in the bedroom, taking a bath, doing laundry, celebrating holidays. I think of the pictures we may take, the memories that might occur. I wonder if this will be where we have our first child? Will our dogs outlive our time in this house? Will our parent's outlive our time in this house? How will we look and change from now until we leave here? What legacy will become of this home?

This is a lot of pressure (especially for my realtor). I guess most people just pick a place and don't worry about all the details. I wish it were simpler for me. I wish that when I was incredibly excited to put my home on the market I prepared myself for what it would be like when it did sell.

I know it will all work out. I remember that one of the things that made me feel better about that revelation of growing older and losing the 'home' that I knew and trusted was Ryan. I remember that when I was with him I felt safe and excited about being an adult and making decisions and our scary uncertain future.

No matter what the world may bring, he always makes me feel like I am home.

In case your wondering where I've been....

I have been somewhere between a nightmare and real estate hell...

Seriously, I am tense and feel sick to my stomach. We sold our house about a month ago and all was well. I was worried of course because we hadn't yet found a new place. Everyone was calm and happy and laughing and jovial and wondering what in the world I was so worried about because our closing was November 9th.

Well, November 9th is a hop, skip and a jump away and we still don't have a house. So I may be a squatter or have to join the teens on 6th street. I am at a about a level 5 freakout today because there was a house I desperately wanted and I had to watch as it painfully slipped from my fingertips.

Personally I think that some realtors are sleazy, and I know that not all of them are. But in reality I am just not used to the high stress environment of real estate. But with so much money at stake you really have to wonder whose interest is at work here.

So I have had to surrender my blogging and stalking time to hours of looking through the MLS listings and praying for a miracle. God, Jesus, Oprah...make something happen. PLEASE!