When Jason flew us to Nashville last October to house hunt, Jim and I were on a mission, yes, but it was also whirlwind mini-vacation. We’d talked long and hard about whether or not we should rent somewhere until we knew which Nashville suburb we wanted to live in, or whether or not we’d be willing to make a move on a great deal, if we were to stumble across one. I don’t think either of us truly expected to find a house in the 36 hours we were going to be traipsing across the Nashville metropolis with our realtor Wanda.
But, we did.
On Sunday, October 12, 2008, Wanda showed us our 23rd potential house, and we knew.
This was to be our home.
And the most miraculous thing happened, in just the last month.
Not only was it home, but it felt like home.
The last time we were in Ohio to visit family, I got homesick. For Tennessee.
I missed my friends. My neighbors. My trees. My house. My church. I wanted to go home.
So here you have it. An entire year later.
New paint. New lights, indoor and out. A few more flowers, a few less trees.
Home, sweet home.