A Year Within These Walls
Dear Faithful Companion,
It seems almost unfathomable that a year has already passed since we crossed the threshold of this house for the very first time—keys in hand, vision in mind, and an eager heart between us. The movers came the very next morning, unloading our worldly possessions on the hottest day imaginable, as if fate itself wished to test our resolve.
Though not our first home, this one has become something altogether distinct. Just last week, we received a message from our mortgage company wishing us a happy home anniversary—a small gesture that unexpectedly stirred deeper reflection. A year, already? And yet in memory, it still feels like only last week.
We are still, in truth, putting things away and shaping each room to reflect who we are and what we value. Some spaces remain in limbo, waiting for the right painting or finishing touch. Others have already been reimagined—made useful, made beautiful, made our own.
Among my first accomplishments here: building a proper bookcase with my own two hands—and, of course, IKEA’s guiding hand. I’ve tackled wallpapering, dabbled in electrical (before wisely calling in a professional), and brought in trusted tradespeople to help realize those parts of the vision that required expertise beyond my own.
The garden, now Jesse’s summer campaign, is slowly beginning to take shape. Our hope is to recreate a backyard oasis—something tranquil, rooted, and green. If all goes to plan, a small pond may even find its way into the design by summer’s end. My role in this domestic campaign is largely one of moral support, the occasional shovel, and a healthy respect for Jesse’s horticultural command.
The kitchen renovation still looms like a noble quest on the horizon, and while the gentleman’s library has been fully built, it awaits its final layer of refinement: carefully chosen décor, curated shelves, and all the subtle touches that breathe soul into structure.
Even in its unfinished corners, this house has already become home. Well situated for our daily journeys and warmly welcoming at day’s end. We’re learning Brampton’s character—its quirks and cadence—and slowly becoming part of its fabric.
Sir Winston Churchill once said, “We shape our dwellings, and afterwards our dwellings shape us.” How precisely that sentiment rings true. This space has borne our effort, held our hopes, and now, it quietly shapes our days in return—granting rest, order, and belonging.
Verbum Ultimum
A house is not made in a day, nor is a home forged in comfort alone. It is built slowly, deliberately—through shared labours, weekend projects, small victories, and even the occasional well-timed call to a professional. Within these walls now live the echoes of laughter, the clink of tools, the scent of fresh paint, and the quiet satisfaction of shaping something with intent.
A year on, and our home is still evolving—but it already bears our rhythm. It carries our routines and our rest, our imperfections and our pride. Each corner tells a small story: of where we began, of how far we’ve come, and of the many chapters still to be written.
It may not yet be finished, but it is unmistakably ours—and that, in itself, is a kind of completeness.
Until next we meet, with ink as my witness and virtue as my guide.
JCB
