But back to the present. Now I have my house. And as I walked from room to room today, I racked my brain trying to remember those first few days here. It was so exciting I felt like a kid in a toy store. I couldn't wait to fill these rooms with all of our things and maybe some new ones as well. Unfortunately though, today I can't remember exactly how I felt or what I was thinking. I do know my kids were little then and they certainly added a sense of wonder and discovery to the whole experience.
But after I'd gotten past the initial newness and excitement, as always happens with human beings, boredom and same old sameness set in. I struggle to feel those same feelings now. Now it's just a house. The rooms are not anything special or unusual. It's just the place where we store our stuff. And boy is there stuff! Too much of it really.
But I don't mean to suggest I'm not grateful for everything I have. I simply miss that "falling in love" kind of feeling one gets from having something new, something you've always wished for, something you've struggled to attain for many years and at last have managed to attain. But like the person who finally gets that prince on a white horse--once you've got him, it seems that some of the thrill is gone. Maybe for many people, it's the chase, the dream, the struggle that keeps them alive, keeps them striving, keeps them hopeful. As long as there's a goal dangling around out there in the universe--there's a reason to get up in the morning, a reason to keep going.
I do like my house. But I think I need to fall in love with it all over again.