Home Is Where We Are

In our 20s, Anne and I bought a little place out in the country. It had just enough land for our horses and just enough room for us to enjoy making incredible memories. During the time that I lived there, we didn’t do any renovations to the house. It wasn’t about the house. It was about having a place for our animals. We redid the barn, put in all-new fencing, bought a new truck and trailer, and hit the road with our horses. Getting home late after a rodeo, putting the horses up, and grabbing a cheesy tortilla was the norm. We entertained on the deck and had movie night every Friday (and ate gallons of this dip). We made countless memories in that kitchen, cooking and laughing. I loved every single second. As long as Anne and I had our doggies and horses with us, we were happy.

In my late 30s, I met Philip, and after we got married, I moved to his home in this tiny town of 800 people. It was only 20 minutes from my place with Anne, but I didn’t want to go. He had to pull me kicking and screaming to that little house in town. Was I being dramatic? Maybe a tad, but I’m being honest when I say it was not my dream to live there. I went anyway. 

After being there for a little bit, I got my bearings. I started to decorate and put my touches on the place. We added a screened-in porch (that’s a must, right?) and redid the kitchen. I loved having a Dollar Store right around the corner, and it was wonderful that anytime someone drove by and honked, I knew instantly who it was without even looking out the window.  I cooked every night in that little kitchen, and then we ate our dinner while watching Frasier or Big Bang Theory and laughed and cut up. It was our thing.  Philip and I started making our own rituals within that house, which was fun. Our actions became routines; one constant was laughter and love. 

Fast forward seven years, and here we are, just buying Evening Shade. Guess what? Philip wasn’t that excited at first. Sure, he wanted more land, but he wanted it around that quaint little town where we lived. All his leased farmland was there, along with his duck hunting holes, and he wasn’t keen to leave it. I get it…but we’re going. When Anne and I knew that Evening Shade was the one…Philip did not. Don’t get me wrong, he loved the place, but now it was time to uproot his life. He certainly wasn’t skipping up the driveway like Anne and me. But, like me, seven years ago…he went anyway. 

So here we are with a new farm, a new home, and a new chapter. We’ve gotten moved in. Are we settled? No. There are still boxes to unpack and a million things to do, but that is life, right? The other day, Philip came home from shoeing horses (he’s a farrier) and said he was telling his client that he drug me to his house kicking and screaming, and now I’ve drug him here kicking and screaming. I said, “Well, you’re here; how do you like it?” He said, “I’m happy here and love this place,  but home is where we are.” Isn’t that so true? Mom always said that growing up, too! 

I think back on all my “homeplaces,” and it’s the love that filled them, not the PLACE. I could go back to my grandparent’s house right this instant, and it would just be green grass and a house. It wouldn’t be home. If Anne and Mom weren’t still at our “little place in the country,” It wouldn’t mean anything to me. It’s the love that fills it that makes it special. That is so true for anything! Like this magazine, whenever Anne and I question an article or a direction, we say, “Just fill it with love, and people will love it.”

Last night, Philip and I came home from a very long workday. We were both too tired to do much but eat and go to bed. Making dinner was the last thing I wanted to do, so it was a fluffernutter for me and peanut butter and jelly for him. As we both sat eating our sandwiches, laughing, watching Frasier with a snoring dog at our feet, I couldn’t help but think…we’re already filling this house with love, and I’m loving it.

This essay was originally published in a past issue of Front Porch Life Magazine, where we share stories about home, love, and the everyday moments that quietly shape our lives. If this story felt familiar, we’d love to welcome you on to the porch and invite you to read more like it.

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