Wednesday 6 August 2014

Brantford Bound

It was 21 years ago today that Rob and I packed up the contents of our 600 square foot attic apartment in Hamilton and moved to our 1200 square foot house in Brantford.  We were so young.  We were so excited to be owning our own home.  I snapped a photo of Rob standing proudly in front of our salmon brick semi, the sun shining overhead.

Friends and family helped us unpack all of our belongings.  But there was one problem:  How would we get in the house without a key?  We were early and our lawyer hadn't arrived yet.  My brother in law Leo solved the problem when he climbed through a basement window that the builders had left unlocked.

Everything had that brand new smell:  the paint, the carpets, the drywall.  My parents gave us a new dining room suite, a black table with a mirrored surface and six high back black chairs.  My in laws had just given us a new bed.  And Rob's uncle bought us a brand new shower curtain.

But not everything was new:  my parents' original kitchen table from 1960, my parents' old sofa and loveseat from their house in Hamilton, and Rob's old bed from his childhood that was custom made five inches longer. But that was okay; we were just happy to be living in our own home.

We only intended on living on Branlyn Crescent for five years.  After five years, our first child was born. After 10 years, our second child came into the world.  After 15 years, we burned our mortgage. Our starter home has turned into our forever home.  What can I say?  We love our street, we love our neighbours and we love our church (a couple of blocks away).  And our kids love it, too.

Thank you, Brantford, for 21 great years!

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