House Hugger

"Keep driving."  "You have to see it."  "I don't want to see it."  "Why not?"  "I don't want to have my heart broken."  The SJG and Gail, my real estate wing girl, 2000.

It was love at first sight, at least on my end.  I'm not sure how it felt about me when I stepped inside and started cooing.  I called hubby from the master bathroom. "I'm in our new house."  Of course, it was at the top of our price range.  The economy was iffy.  There was a bar mitzvah coming up.  We weren't sure we could afford it.  (We couldn't.)  We weren't sure we could sell the other house.  (We couldn't.  But then, a nice rabbi stepped in and rescued us, after it sat on the market, empty and unloved, for six months of agony.)  We weren't sure of anything.  Except we had to have this house.  So we took our chances.  We begged.  We borrowed.  We moved in 12 years ago, today.  No love story comes without complications.  Plumbing disasters.  Carpeting Issues.  Neighbor issues.  But here were are, all these years later, more in love than ever.  This house still makes us happy.  It understands our needs.  It's a good listener, a steady companion, a true homie.  So, happy 12th anniversary, house.  You're holding up well.  You still look great.  Keep up the good work, hon.  Here's to another 12, and God willing, 12 more after that.  We were meant for each other.  We knew it from the start.