Last night Nason and I got the keys to our house.  We were at a barbeque when we got the phone call from the owner, so we went over shortly afterwards, retrieved the key from its hiding place and went inside.

The house was so different from the last time we were there.  It was empty and quiet and dark, unlike the walk through when it was full of people and life.  Aided just by a flashlight, we did our own walk through, unaccompanied by our real estate agent, or the owner, or our parents.  It was just us and the house.

It’s kind of funny to think that we’ll be living there by the end of next week.  The place needs cleaning, but we can do that easily.  We have a list of projects to be done to the house, projects like tiling and painting and building.  But I’m looking forward to it all, because those are the things that will make it ours. 

That knowledge brings a funny feeling.  It’s like the key made it all real.  Before that key, the whole arrangement was all talk and emails.  But now, we have something tangible.  That key means something more than all the discussions and paperwork.  It means that empty house will be ours, and we’ll fill it with our things and our people, and we’ll have a life there.

Tonight, when he comes home from work, Nason and I are going over to that empty house to begin cleaning.  We’re taking the first steps towards making that house our home.  For now, the house is empty, just waiting for life to come and fill it again.  It’s exciting to know that it’ll be us to fill it.