Recently my husband’s grandmother and aunt were in town and we gave them a tour of the house. It’s a joy and privilege to open our home and share it with others, especially all the quirky things that make it ours and tell who we are. I’m so, so glad they were finally able to visit. But it’s not uncommon for me to panic when expecting guests, so prior to their arrival we could be found cleaning and organizing furiously. I worry everyone will know I didn’t clean my baseboards perfectly or dust every book, or that the unfinished renovations will be a glaring eyesore. Not just that, I worry it matters if people do notice, and judgment will follow. Whenever I give voice to my insecurities about the state of the house, David repeats the kind reminder, “It just looks like people live here.” And he’s right–it’s a flowing, evolving space, responding to different moments and circumstances. This is a place for living, and all the evidence of our sweet, simple life together–dog hair, dirt from the backyard, unwashed dishes, worn furniture, an unmade bed, shoes thrown on the floor after a long day, laundry air drying in the dining room, book piles everywhere–belongs here. A while back we unofficially took on the family motto “good enough is good enough.” It’s a little funny, but also true. It really is good enough.

During the visit I noticed how much has changed in the short 9 months we’ve lived here, and how much change is still to come. In a couple weeks our new contractor will be starting the finishing work on our bathroom and kitchen. I’m looking forward to the final reveal, but these are a few scenes as it stands now. I spend a lot of my day-to-day time here, and I’m beginning to grasp more of that ease I felt in the apartment we lived in for years and years. I’m grateful for the comfort and familiarity.