Our first home

On moving, planning, and growing into a new space

I realized recently that our new apartment feels like home. We moved a few months ago—just 5 blocks—but anyone who’s ever moved house knows that even going next door can be far enough to take you out. As moves go, it wasn’t the worst, but there were a few casualties. Our couch, which we were planning to replace anyways, did not fit up the stairs, and a floating shelf crashed to the ground in spectacular fashion after being loaded up with most of our glassware (would not recommend that Taskrabbit). Thankfully, no one was hurt.

Once it was all in and securely fashioned, we relished the new features and lamented the ones we left behind. Though we miss our little backyard, it’s quite possible we haven’t stopped doing laundry since we started, good training for what’s to come.

Mostly, we started figuring out which parts of our lives still fit in this new space and which ones would have to change. We made some decisions for ourselves (not one, but two new armchairs in perilous white) and many for the little prince who’ll eventually taunt us from his new bedroom while we grown adults continue to share one.

When you move into a new space, you worry about all the material ways you need to fill it. Furniture, silverware, bedding, entertainment. All of it stuff, and all of it serving a purpose, but nothing that you’ll remember in 50 years. What we’ll remember then is that this was the first place the three of us came home to together. The first place we all laughed at the same joke. The first place we felt like a family.

It’s just a box, four walls, but it’s amazing what you can fill it with.