How we got here - part 2

visiting the house for the first time

We drove for more than two hours. My parents were with us on vacation and my father joined us on our trip to see the house. Excited as a kid before Christmas. Wearing an old festival t-shirt, equipped with a torchlight and his multitool, ready to examine every inch of the house.

When we arrived we met a full driveway. And there we were, in our family van, three kids, a dog and my dad in his old t-shirt. We were almost ready to turn around. What were the chances?!

The moment we sat foot into that house we knew we were screwed. We instantly felt the status quo was never going to be good enough again. Moving through the house and garden we saw all the possibilities that were tucked away for too long under the comfort of the ordinary. It didn’t help that the house felt eerily familiar. We recognized the same eco paint we used in our house in The Netherlands. The same Mad et Len perfumed candles I love so much. I peaked into the closet and recognized a similar dress style. Smelled a love for lavender and olive oil soap. There was even a bottle of the same dog shampoo. I felt like I knew these people all along. Like we could just take over and continue a vision that was set in motion long before we came. A feeling that was confirmed by our children feeling instantly comfortable. They were nowhere to be seen until they excitedly came back to tell us they had eaten all the raspberries off the bush and found great hiding places in the basement. Where grandpa had been poking old beams with his multitool and examined the heating system.

On our drive back to the vacation home no one said a word. Until everyone said everything all at once. A cacophony of excitement and bewildered sighs. We knew we wanted this. The house, the garden, the change, the possibility to live in a way we never admitted to ourselves. Away from the rat race. In community. With bees. Without the pressure of status. Without the constant question of ‘what do you do’?

The sweet possibility.

We phoned my husbands parents. They thought we had picked the wrong mushrooms in the woods. However, after a long talk and a few tears they were ready to fully support us. The kids were on board. Our oldest quietly came to me, saying “Mama I don’t think you know how much I didn’t want to live in a city my whole life. Can we please live somewhere else now?”

One day later we put in an offer. A day later the realtor called back: the house was ours. The owners wanted to sell to people with a similar vision and felt we were the ones. It felt like all the strength was taken out of my legs and I sank to my knees. I glanced at my mom and asked her “Am I really uprooting my whole family? My entire life as I know it? Just like that?” She smiled. She nodded knowingly. She had known all along, for many years. We hugged and smiled and cried.

Three days later we were set to drive back home to The Netherlands. Vacation was over. The real estate agent sent us the contracts and asked if we could drive past the house on our way back south, to meet the owners and sign the contract. And so we did. We packed up the vacation home and drove south. To sign a contract on a house we’d only seen once. To sign off on a life we had no idea what it would look like. It was scary as hell and I hadn’t felt this thrilled in years. We wholeheartedly followed our guts and shushed our conscience. Uprooting what had been tucked away for years. We had no idea what exactly. But we took the leap.

Arriving at the house a second time felt good. Meeting the owners felt like meeting old friends. We hugged and talked for hours. The realtor mentioned that it felt like he was selling the house to the same people just in a different phase of their lives. It made sense.

Yes. Uprooting, replanting, re-rooting. Allowing for the possilbility to be an option. The possibility that following your gut instead of your conscience is exactly right.

So here I am. A year later. A year in this house, this possibility, has passed. And I’m still uprooting. Uncovering. Recovering. It’s still scary as hell, not at all easy but oh so sweet. I’ll write more about that another time.

For now, the possibility is slowly turning into a new reality. A reality that might just bring us back to our roots. Roots that are only the beginning…

After signing the contract. It felt like we got married all over again. Like we were at the beginning once more. Just older and less naive maybe. And yes, taking a leap of faith, leaving everything we knew behind, jumping heart first into the unknown strangely didn’t feel naive at all.