2217

Goodbye 2217.

To the condo that became my home, you will always have a piece of me.

Josh and I closed on our new gorgeous house recently and although we couldn't be more grateful for the space and the potential of this new home, our hearts will always be connected to that tiny little condo - "2217".

That space was not just a house for us, it was a home. We hosted dinner parties, crammed around our tiny little table, wine and delicious food filling the bellies and hearts of our friends and family. We had sleepovers with anyone who would visit us, staying up late into the night laughing the laughs of deliriously tired grownups who just wanted to soak every minute with our guests.

We came home from our honeymoon there, as Mr. and Mrs. Meyer, equal parts happy and terrified about our new titles. We were newlyweds about to live together for the first time, sharing space and time and setting up a home. We dug through all our gifts with excitement. It all felt so new, from my last name to the dishes in my cabinets.

We fought there for the first time, learning how each other reacted to stress and anxiety. I spent a few long hours in my closet, sorting through my feelings of too much new and too much different as my sweet husband waited patiently on the other side for me to emerge.

Dozens of pregnancy tests in the trash.  We said goodbye to the dream of carrying our babies in that condo. We cried together on the bathroom floor, in the bed, in the kitchen, and on the couch in our family room. We learned how to hold each other and process the end of this dream, together in 2217. It was a haven in our storm, a safe space to land after hard doctor visits and painful surgeries.

We welcomed our children home to that condo. First was our beautiful daughter Hannah. We would sit on the couch in our family room with her for hours on end, singing to her, holding her tight, laughing hard at her little squawks and full-faced smiles.

Then our fierce little Eden was born and came home to 2217. She was the exclamation point in our year after so much sorrow and pain. We couldn't get enough of her silky, dark hair and completely captivating brown eyes. We laid with her between us in our bedroom, thanking God over and over again for this gift that we had prayed about for 18 straight months.

The laundry, the dishes, the vacuum that could reach the whole house from one outlet, and carrying bags and bags of groceries with a baby in my arms up the stairs...I loved that little condo and what it taught me for the five and a half years that I called it home.

We turned our kitchen and dining room into a dance floor on countless occasions, shaking our booties and laughing and holding each other close for a quick slow dance whenever we could.

I learned that I could cook in my little kitchen there. I tore through cookbooks, finding new recipes that I just had to try. We had some delicious meals there, and some that didn't exactly pan out, but I learned that I could read a recipe and translate it into something yummy for those I loved. My passion for baking also started there, my red kitchen aid mixing butter and sugar for the dozens and dozens of cookies and cakes that were made with love there in 2217. I learned to love the precision of baking, the science that turns ingredients into masterpieces.

I will miss our tiny little bathtub and the two little dripping heads as my girls played with their toys and learned how to be sisters. It was such a natural transition from being an only to being a sister. There were tea parties and FaceTime dates in the tub in our bathroom at 2217, and I treasured up all those times leaning over the tub, bubbles dripping down my hands.

Two times, I watched my husband get all dressed up to take our daughter to the Daddy Daughter Dance at our church, leaving me a hot mess crying my eyes out as I watched them leave. As I stood on our deck watching them pull away, I knew I had married the best man and father, and I felt both proud and humbled by that feeling.

We would sneak out, baby monitor in hand, to smoke a cigar together on the deck.  We would sit there talking for hours on end about our hopes and dreams and having the "what's next" conversation as we planned for our future. I learned in those moments to listen to my husband and to just be us. We would share sour patch kids and wine and deep belly laughs as we connected, my soul and his.

That little condo might not have looked like much to others, but to us it was a place to call home. I learned how to train my heart to be joyful there, one of the biggest lessons learned in 2217. I worked hard to push away the clouds and choose joy. Not a fake, slap a happy smile on my face joy, but deep rooted pure joy that can only come from God.

I have so many memories of that perfect little space that I will treasure up no matter where we live.

Thank you 2217 for being so good to us for so long.