A fundamentalist turned freedom chaser with an obnoxiously stubborn faith.

When You Make a House a Home

Home Love poem
Eli was born there. It was small – small like the cabin my parents spent baby appleall their money and my childhood on. And small has always meant cozy in my world because of this country song about small houses and big love. There was a lot of love. And Eli was born into that squished-in beauty. He burst it out through the windows; you could probably have tasted it if you walked close enough. There was a lot of love.
And a lot of arguments at the top of our lungs. And a lot of apologies near the kitchen sink. With dishes piled high and babies sleeping onkitchen clutter the other side of a thin wall.
There were strange noises and phone calls to crime check. There were drunks and addicts traipsing through on their way to or from hits – friendly and generous (do you want a drink?). There were delicious tomatoes that we popped like candies and put in every.dish. we made for months. It was the messiest kind of the most video monitor 2beautiful.
And the windows let in light from one of the darker spots in Spokane. Filtered through creakyold books glass it erupted the mornings in symphony; warm, yellow, yummy yummy melodies of good and right. Snow and rain danced like on a stage and I didn’t have to stare out those windows to feel comforted by their scenes.
But I did have to make sure the curtains were drawn at night.
comfortWe’ll miss that house forever, I think. We outgrew it despite our best efforts and we knew we couldn’t stay, but it was hard to let it go. We met our son there, we heard Raychel form sentences for the first time there, we had princess dances and high fevers and broken glasses and tons of spilled milk there. So much milk.
We made a home there and I am growing very tired of leaving homes. Even when it makes the most sense. Even when it will save us money. Even when we have to. 9 moves in 8 years is wearing on me. I kid messdon’t really get ancy to go like some people do, moving is almost always difficult for me. I am a nester… I pour my heart into a place, I consider every rug, every lamp, every picture frame carefully and I take deep delight in making a place feel cozy. A love language of decoration.
And even though the things come with me, what we create is daily clutterintegrated with the walls and floors. It’s home and it takes time t build. So every time is like tearing down a nest. It hurts in a primal way. Even when I’m excited for new possibilities, I ache for the loss.
So this is my aching for the little yellow house on 8th Avenue. For all the factors that anyone from Perry knows could have compromised it, it was precious and wonderful and every bit as romantic as I’ll want to remember it.

samson scent warmercoffee stationclock

snow fallinghandmade orange valanceeating snow

curtainnarnia laundryTV time

mirror berriesboy and dog

bless the families as they gather intoy balldaddy daughter cookie

sunset play

2 responses to “When You Make a House a Home”

  1. leah Avatar

    I loved your ode to home here Krysann! I have been so blessed to be the same house for nearly 13 years…all 4 babies brought through the same door home from the hospital, all but that first year of marriage, fleshed out here. And may I note that I am so happy you admitted the arguments on the top of lungs…we are loud in life, in love, and in stress too.
    Blessings on your next move,

  2. oneblessedgirl27 Avatar

    I love this so much. It makes me want to cry and hug my house at the same time. You are so lovely.. I love being able to see glimpses of the world through your very artistic eyes.

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