Sound Of My House

It’s no secret that I love our house. I’ve loved it from the moment I walked in during the open house.

I love the way it looks. Regal and sturdy on the outside, sun streaming through the big living room window, hardwood floors that get painted so perfectly by the 3pm light. The way that the living room feels so endless and the downstairs den feels like a cozy spaceship.

I love the way that it smells. The hardwood floors smell quite woody, and in the kitchen you can smell the granite island (I’m not actually sure you can smell it, but I can’t figure out what else could be producing that odor).

But most of all, I love the way it sounds. The hardwood floors creak when I walk over them on a Sunday morning. And when there’s a strong gust of wind, the house makes a cracking noise as if the walls are flexing to protect us.

I think everyone would agree there’s something special about a childhood home. For better or for worse. This is the place my kid gets to grow up. In a beautiful house full of character and with a super secret crawl space in the basement.

Perhaps he will use it as a portal, traveling to distant dark and rocky worlds. Or maybe it will be his cool down spot when he’s angry at us in high school.

Those couch cushions are going to be tunnels at some point. I hadn’t factored that in when we bought the couch.

And when the kids are sliding down the stairs on air mattresses, remind me to close my eyes and let the laughter I hear serve as a reminder that more than anything, I love the sound of the house.