My husband and I worked incredibly hard on the house we bought about 4 years ago; it was a fixer-upper just on the edge of a very cool neighborhood, an area we love. We gut-renovated the kitchen and dining room while planning our wedding -- an "interesting choice", as my friend Sara would call it -- and in the three years since, have done another handful of projects: re-sodding the yard, refinishing the stairs, replacing some bathroom fixtures, and redesigning the guest room.
A few months ago, we decided to leave it -- and most of our other wordily possessions, along with my job, our pets, and my family -- behind and move 10,000 miles away.
We packed what we could into a few suitcases and now here I am, temporarily living in a friend's borrowed house, while a family of strangers lives in our home, while I search for another stranger to let us call their house "home".
While how (and why?!) we got here is another story for another post, it's not nearly as interesting as where we're going.
Or that's the hope, anyway.