Almost six months before we bought our house, DH and I took a look at it, but the building was small and we were uncertain. The owner took it off the market and, instead, rented it out. At 902 square feet, our first home is modest and unpretentious.
When I first started house hunting I wanted a light and airy two-story home with a large yard, at least three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a large kitchen. For me, location was flexible as long as I felt safe in the area. DH had other priorities. He refused to move unless he was in love with the location. While my priority was loving the home, his was loving the community.
As I searched and searched, I found that the homes I liked in the areas he liked were easily double our
budget. While DH was okay with waiting to buy, I was tired of small, expensive apartment living. So, I started looking smaller in the hopes of appeasing his desire to live in certain areas of our city.
I stumbled upon our house during the late fall. It was the beautiful vaulted ceiling that drew me in. I had qualms about even seeing the place. It was small. Tiny. The master bedroom fits a queen bed and dresser. The single closet is really best for one human. The second bedroom is smaller. There is no dining room. Not even an eat-in kitchen.
But, I thought,
it's so pretty. And with that, we went to visit the tiny house that was nestled in a suburban-style neighborhood, tucked within the large city of Milwaukee, WI.
We drove through the parkway leading towards the house and awed at the simplicity of ancient trees arching gently along the road. Light danced and played along the grassy street dividers. Some homes had large boulders demanding they be left alone. We spoke quietly of how lovely it all was - this little niche in our city.
When we arrived, the entrance was lost behind overgrown trees. The house looked like it was an extension of the neighbor's place. The stone exterior made the place seem solid and safe. When we entered through the back kitchen door, warm walnut cabinets greeted us. The too-small kitchen was certainly compact, but was full of carefully organized drawers and well-calculated storage solutions. The tile back splash was elegantly framing the window over the porcelain double-sink. The original 1950s built-in featured removable zebra-print wallpaper, but I remember thinking,
we can fix that. The island connecting the kitchen to the living room allowed so much light in the space.
But the place was small.
So we left and said, "We'll think about it." And I kept searching. But every so often, we'd talk about that sweet little neighborhood. Wouldn't it be nice to live there? To walk along the quiet streets in the summer? To lounge on a patio and listen to the birds? And what about that park? The biking trails nearby? But the houses, while often quaint and unassuming, were expensive.
In January, we realized we would need to renew our lease soon. Or not. Which caused us to think back to that neighborhood. I said, "What about that little house we saw? What if he never sold it?" And with that, I found the man's phone number and asked if he still had the house.
Yes, but we're renting it out. If you're interested, the lease is month-to-month. DH and I went to the house and talked about the beautiful ceiling and warm kitchen, and big windows. And we said we'd like to buy the place.
On May first, we bought the small stone cottage with the deck in the back and a skeleton key forgotten above the basement door frame.
It's been eight months and I am still in love with our space. I wanted big and bold and spacious. What I ended up with is something quiet, gentle, and humble.
