The bulk of the move is done. Some boxes in the basement, some stuff in the garage, I've said that we won't be officially moved in until I can park in the garage, but for all intents and purposes we are home.
If feels nice. It feels right. Much has changed, not the least of which is the location of many light switches which will take some getting used to.
The colours have changes. I love the colours. They are so vibrant, they make the house feel so much more alive than before.
It's a new home, but it's the old home too.
We've been so excited and happy just to be back, to have a fancy new kitchen and new details that make a big difference that I hadn't noticed a less happy feeling lingering in the back of my mind.
We've taken a few people though the house to show off and that's when I really noticed the feeling. I identified it today. It's guilt.
Somehow in my mind I feel that we didn't earn this wonderful new home. Without the fire we would never have this house. I feel proud of my home, but how can I feel proud?
I'm sure I'll get over it. Insurance is essentially gambling and the sad coin toss resulted in the complete loss of our home also paid dividends. So perhaps my feelings are unfounded.
In the mean time I'll just bask in the glory of being in my own house again, even if it wasn't all fancy and new, I'd still be rejoicing in that fact alone.
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