The Concept of Home

I am a self-proclaimed homebody. As a child, I would often abruptly leave friend’s homes while playing dolls or Barbie’s or riding bikes just to go home. Home provides me with a sense of comfort and security. It seems to be the place that centers me, the place that I always come back to relax and decompress.

Home has always been an integral part of my life. My family built our first home. It was a typical New England colonial in CT with 4 bedrooms and 3 bathrooms. Every single extended family member helped build this home. My father built the home with his own hands. My mother and grandfather painted.

I may have only been 5 years old but I had vital role in building the home. From the beginning, I was excited to help. So excited that I hopped right into the hole dug for the foundation only to find out hat the dirt was so soft, I couldn’t get out. Every attempt to lift myself out of the hole, I would find myself with a face full of dirt. It took both my mother and Grandfather to pull me out of the hole that day. Further along in the construction I stepped on a loose nail in the garage and had to be rushed to the hospital to get a tetanus shot. As you can imagine, this home could not have been built without me.

It was miraculous to see this home come together and it remained the home we lived in for the next five years. I grew to 10 years of age, my sister 8 and my littlest sister was born there. I loved that home, the big black and white tiles and teal walls in the entryway. My peach colored bedroom, yes, you heard that right, peach. To this day, I may be the only 5 year old who requests a peach color bedroom. The kitchen, made large enough for the extended family to come over during the holidays. The yard that housed a swing set and a pool!

Unexpectedly, my father got a new job, which moved us to New Hampshire. A move that left my 10-year-old heart forever broken. I refused to acknowledge the move even as we drove away in our U-Haul. Over time, the new house in New Hampshire became home.  I had my own room, which I painted yellow and teal this time. New traditions were made which did not include my extended family, who now were four hours away. It was larger than the last home and had not one but two staircases, which was perfect for chasing both my sisters up and both. It remained my home even through dorm rooms and even apartments after college. 

At age 25 I set out to by my own home since I thought the real estate market hade finally hit bottom. Jokes on me as it seemed to keep going lower after my purchase.. My criterion for a home wasn’t strict – a 2 bedroom, 1-2 bath condo and I only needed to look at 3 condos to find it. The moment I walked through the door, I knew it was home. It boosted an open floor plan, 2 huge master beds and baths and closet space I didn’t even know I needed at the time. For six years this was my home. My boyfriend, Troy, moved in and we made our own little life. We cooked dinner in the galley kitchen and had our own respective spots on the couch.

Inevitably Troy’s job got transferred to Florida and we chose to make our new home Florida. Troy moved down first, as I needed to find employment. He made the drive by his lonesome and in three days arrived our new home, a temporary housing apartment in Sarasota, just 5 minutes from the beach.

While I was back in New Hampshire without him, for the first time in my life, I felt that home wasn’t necessarily a physical place. Perhaps home was really the people in it. I never did make down to my home in Sarasota permanently. Months went by with no luck on finding a job down there. Troy and I parted ways after an unsuccessful attempt at long distance relationship.

But the seed was planted. Call it the travel bug or my newfound looser definition of home. I decided to leave everything stable in my life, including my home, and move to Denver to follow my very obvious passion of real estate. I sold every single piece of my beloved furniture and packed the rest of my belongings in my SUV and made the 3,000 mile trek to Denver. In that single year I moved four times. I moved from temporary home to temporary home while most of my belongings stayed in storage.

I am happy to report I have since hopped into the hottest real estate market in the country and bought my first Denver home. It is quite sparse and I am reluctant to call it home because now when I think of the concept of home, I no longer envision a house. Rather, I see my family and friends gathered at a table. Now home to me is a drink with my sisters during the week because, yes, we all live in Denver now. Or when I see my mother’s car turn the corner at Logan airport, coming to pick me up for my visit back to NH. Through this experience, I have learned that home in actuality resides in your heart.

In addition to writing for Daigle's Digs, Elizabeth works full-time as a Real Estate Agent with  Keller Williams Realty Downtown, LLC. Elizabeth's expertise is in buying and selling a home, first time home buyers, short sales, and investment properties. Contact Elizabeth for any real estate needs. Cell 303-819.73.71. Work 720-314-8352.