Dear Diary, Home Sweet Home.

You know what’s been yanking my chain lately?

Fucking doormats.

Yeah, you read that correctly. D O O R M A T S.

Recently, I purchased my own home, with my own hard-earned money, that I’m decorating in the eclectic, non-sense that is my style. And even though I recognize how absolutely incredible this step is, it is still mind boggling that I’m at this point in my ‘post-Wes’ journey. But all these dumb ass doormats don’t work for me.

Why?

Because 1. I’m not buying one that says ‘Home Sweet Home’ or ‘Hello’ because that’s cliché and I’m too trendy for that shit. And 2. Because the rest usually say ‘Welcome to Our Home’ or ‘Our Place’ on them. Well doormat companies, ‘our’ is plural and there’s no longer an ‘our’ living together. We should fix that!

See, I remember vividly the home-buying process with Wes. Per usual, he wanted the largest and most extravagant home our (minimal) budget could get and did not think of one single detail in terms of finances. Me, being the nerd I am, knew exactly what size/price home we could afford down to the penny, and couldn’t care less about the aesthetics of the place. While that sounds like the most terrible pair to ever venture into home-buying, it was actually an incredible balance. I brought him back down to Earth and he helped me envision a future in each home. We ended up finding a perfect starter family home for us and got to live two happy years in it together.

It was a hodge podge of a home (which I love), full of hand-me-down furniture and family photos. We had a backyard for the pups and enough space for him to have a game room and for me to have a big book shelf, full of my faves (fun fact : my dream house includes a library full of books…think Beauty and the Beast). Plenty of memories were made there…family dinners, birthday celebrations, Newberry College reunions, Pelion reunions, Carolina and Clemson football game viewing parties, Bachelor/Bachelorette nights, and date nights in to name a few. All of these fantastic memories forever etched in my mind thanks to that home on Barn Plank!

But if we’re being honest, some of my worst memories were held in that home. I remember crumbling on the kitchen floor after being told Wes was shot and killed. I remember laying in our bed for days on end trying to understand what had just happened within the first few weeks of his passing. I remember sobbing thinking about the useless prenatal vitamins resting on the kitchen counter that I asked my sister to throw away for me. I remember standing in our closet smelling his clothes just to catch his scent one last time. I remember the loneliness I’d feel when I’d come home from work to that big ass house by myself.

That’s the thing about widowhood – one object/song/memory/thing can be so full of good and so full of pain at the same time. And, I wish I could accurately describe it for you, but I know I’d be doing it injustice.

Anyways, fast forward to today.

I’ve found a little patio home just big enough for me and my pups. The walls are gray (my fave color). I’m painting a bathroom pink, because why the hell not. I’m getting new floors put in. I’ve got a mixture of Matisse and Banksy prints to find homes for among the walls (family photos will be mixed in still). I’ve got a bar cart ready to be filled with my fave bottles of tequila. My dogs’ hair will be everywhere, so sorry in advanced to any visitors.

If you would have asked me a year and a half ago where I’d be today, I would have absolutely NEVER told you that I’d be living on my own, that I’d be self–sufficient without Wes, and that he wouldn’t be physically by my side. That’s the crazy thing about life though; it’s like the home buying process, nothing is guaranteed until it’s done. So no matter how much you really plan and prepare, anything can change at any time. When I was teaching, I used to live each day by the motto ‘monitor and adjust’, and that’s how I live out every day now. I’m adjusting. I’m adjusting to what a new future could look like. I’m adjusting to living on my own. I’m adjusting to this new outlook I have on life. I’m adjusting to all the good and bad life throws my way. And, for the first time in a long, long time, I’m excited about this big adjustment. I cannot wait for new and great memories to be created in this neat, little space of mine.

Also, if anyone finds a tequila themed doormat…holla at ya girl.

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For every house is built by someone, but God is the builder of everything. Hebrews 3:4