Our homes are in conversation with the rest of our lives. Sometimes they say not yet, or I don't know, and that feels like failure. But it's not. It's a way of arriving at a truth we can't always see until it shows up in something physical.
Most of us live in half-finished homes. We walk our friends through them, rattling off a list of what we plan to do. But most of us know that finish lines tend to move. You finish one room, and another starts looking glaringly wrong. Or your life changes, and what worked doesn’t anymore.
We’ve lived here long enough that some rooms carry the memory of who I used to be. There are spaces I designed for a life I was performing more than living. When I finally noticed, I felt like I’d lost something essential…my drive to create, my love of sharing it. The more I pushed to figure out why, the more stuck I got. But I also noticed something else:
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