For five and a half years, Jonathan and I lived in a sweet mid-century modest cottage. We fell in love with our little home the very first time we laid eyes on it. Everything about it was charming. While it wasn't perfect when we moved in, we were okay with that. We loved adding our touches over time, while working hard to preserve the 60-year-old cottage feel. I don't think we realized how truly charming it was until we listed it for sale at the beginning of July. When I saw the photos of our house on the Internet for the first time, I cried. There was our perfect little cottage, the keeper of our treasures and memories. We arrived here as wide-eyed newlyweds with our cat, and we're leaving with almost six years of marriage under our belts, our cat, our dog and even bigger dreams for the future.
I'm writing this post two weeks before it's actually scheduled, so I'm still in our little cottage. Mountains of boxes surround me, and the process of moving begins tomorrow. I know the tears will come soon.
A sixty-three-year-old house comes with so much history. Five and a half years is such a brief time in the grand scheme of things, and yet I feel that we've left our mark on it -- the roses are blooming, the new windows open wide, the deck welcomes friends and the white paint is so fresh and bright. Yes, it feels like home to us, and it will feel like home to the new owners.
They will add new memories and treasures to the next chapter of the little cottage we once called home.
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