The house on the hill

17 November 2015



Last Thursday was a special day for me.

Ryan had left town early that morning.  I only remember hearing a soft knock on our front door, and then Ryan leaping out of bed, throwing on a sweatshirt, and kissing me goodbye.  He's off getting us a Thanksgiving turkey :)

I woke up earlier than the sun, feeling a special feeling inside like it's Christmas morning.  I work out and head in the opposite direction from my work.  I am driving west to meet up with our realtor for another home tour.  Ryan and I have spent most of our evenings touring every house along the Wasatch.  And on this particular day, I am house hunting solo, on a home that Ryan and I really really really really like.  Given the pictures on the internet.  And it was because of this extreme like that I awoke feeling like it was Christmas.

I arrive at the home around 7:45 am, before my realtor.  I'm standing directly in front of the home, with my feet together and my hands in the pockets of my white pea coat, watching the sun come over the mountains behind the house.  Spencer greets me and lets us into the house.  We wander around.  Flipping the lights on, peering in every room,  and walking through the backyard.  I admire the home's layout and its quirks.  It fits the bill to everything Ryan and I have been looking for.


For the rest of the day, I'm daydreaming about morning sunrises inside a cozy home.  Running around in the yard at dusk. And Ryan and I can't stop talking about our dreams to have a family, full of hobbies and curiosity, together.

Now, four days later, Ryan and I have entered into a contract for this yellow house on the hill.  Quarter acre yard, a garden, plenty of bedrooms for Stucki babies, and above it all, we have inherited a full-on chicken coop in the backyard and yoga studio in the basement.

Did I mention Ryan is still on a hunting trip?  And now that's what you do when your husband leaves town, you buy a house.

And here's the Mr:   mmmm, I love what a MAN he is. 


Upward and onward,