Two Ducks Walk Into an Old House

 Sometimes life pulls the rug out. Other days it opens an antique door with a perfect stained glass window. I’ll explain.

I love houses. I love OLD houses. I scroll away my stress on Zillow and Circa:Old Houses. I remember wandering through homes for sale around town with my mom, who also loved houses. 

One is deeply rooted in my memories. I was maybe five years old. It was a grand Victorian off the Marietta square and she was glorious. My mom stood chatting with the realtor as I explored. Dreaming of running up and down the stairs at Christmas and finding secret treasures in the attic. 

I begged. I pleaded. “Mom please! Can we please buy it!” 

She shook her head. “It just needs too much work, Megan.” When I pass the house now. Beautifully restored and pristine, I think of standing in it with my mom.

And then mine appeared. I was in a “I’m not looking for a house” phase. But I was sitting on my porch. The sun was warm. And I was just sitting there so why not just see. 

 It wasn’t the one I ran through with my mama, but close. Better even.

“The inside will be a mess.” I told myself. Cautiously beginning to swipe the pics. 

She isn’t a mess. She’s perfect. I was in love.

Honey.” I said shyly. “There’s a house.”

My Rob. He isn’t a house guy. He isn’t a moving guy. He smiled and nodded. “Ok. Let’s see it.” He’s so good. 

So, the morning we went to tour it, he smiled at me and nodded. But he was guarded. 

Then we pulled up. He was quiet for a bit. Opening and closing the old perfectly restored doors. Wandering the land. He came up to me after a bit. 

“I like this house. I like this house a lot. I could see us here. I could see this as our forever house.”

So we went home and came back. And drove past. And went to the local coffee shop. And met the people in town. 

And fell in love. 

And now we wait. We wait and see if she’s the one. 



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