I am moving. I am so excited I cannot even explain in words. My husband and I have moved a lot. Wandering souls, nomads, short attention spans, something… well we decided to make it permanent and buy a house. After searching for 9 months, making several offers, some disappointment, a lot of stress, we found the one and it’s ours.
Buying a house is the epitome of the American Dream. My husband and I are lucky enough to able to afford a nice home, and grateful to God for allowing us provide a place to build memories with our family. Dwayne expressed the importance of this to me when he told me what he plans to do first in the new house… He wants to pick a spot on the wall and mark our kids’ heights so we can always remember how big they were when we moved in. I thought that was incredibly sweet.
We close this afternoon and we will be moving this weekend. The feeling I have this morning reminds me of the first time I flew in an airplane. My husband and I few to Vegas. I was in the Minneapolis airport with him and our friends and I was completely, and totally, terrified. They tried to relax me in a little mexican bar that I can’t remember the name of, but remember distinctly the decor. It ended with me puking in the bathroom and refusing to board the plane.
 I did board. I clenched Dwayne’s leg and cried most of the way there. He tells the story something like “I tried to rip his pants off”,  anyway, I know I’ll survive today, but by the end I’ll probably cry, and maybe be sick, but I’ll own a house, and it will be grand.
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