The Mitten House

Summer is over.  My husband is back in his fifth grade classroom, my daughter is in grad school and my youngest- the baby!- is a senior in high school.  The return of the school year, along with the increasingly chilly nights, is a sure sign that fall is peeking around the corner.  I've mentioned in a previous post that my husband is eligible for an early retirement incentive in two years.  That is somewhat earlier than we were planning on his retirement, but the opportunity is too good to pass up.  We have committed to spending these two years paying off all our debt, except for the house, which will be paid off in a few short years.

One of the reasons this somewhat unexpected retirement is even possible for us to consider is that we never moved out of our "starter home".  When we were looking to buy a house in 1994, we had a small baby, my husband was at the bottom of the pay scale, and our only requirement was that it be the cheapest house in town.  Well, we found it and it was UGLY!  So ugly that I spent the first night here crying to my husband and repeating between sobs, "What have we done?"  But after living in apartments, 1500 square feet of ugly felt like more than enough room for two adults and a big-eyed baby.  So we began fixing it up.  Bit by bit as we could afford it.  One ugly, wall-paper covered room at a time.   Fast forward seven years and we were suddenly a family of five.

Our plan had always been to live here for a few years, fix it up, sell it and move to something bigger. Newer.  Nicer.  But we never got around to it.  We were too busy living.  And growing.  And
making it ours.  Have you ever read the children's book 'The Mitten'?  It was a favorite of ours when the kids were small.  In it, a boy loses a mitten in the snow and a small animal, maybe it was a hedgehog, climbs in it for warmth.  Pretty soon, he is joined by a rabbit.  And a fox.  And so on.  And with each slightly bigger animal, the mitten stretches and grows to accommodate them all.  That's sort of how it was, and is, with my house.

After baby number three, we were feeling the pinch.  I wondered if it was time for a bigger house.  But we were within walking distance of Robert's work, the schools, the beach, the library.  So we knocked out a wall in the dining room and hired a contractor to add seven feet to the living room and suddenly, it was enough room again.  We went along for the growing up years, bumping into and tripping over each other, accommodating and helping each other, sharing rooms and meals until, before we knew it, the big-eyed baby was gone to college.  We blinked and then our daughter was gone, too.  And the mitten wasn't so crowded anymore.

Because we never upgraded to a bigger, more expensive home, our mortgage payments have remained small and easily manageable.  Even with refinancing to add on to the living room and make some necessary improvements, we can see the end of house payments in view.  We won't need to downsize in retirement because we never upsized.  Why am I telling you this?  Not because I have some financial insight to offer.  I definitely do not.  What I want to tell you is this: a small home, an old home, didn't make us unhappy.  It brought us together.  In 1500 square feet, we spent our
mornings and evenings together.  We laughed and argued and dealt with each other.  We sat around in the living room reading in silence together.  The mitten expanded to include friends eating over and sleeping over.  It was never too small.  It's very smallness fostered closeness and conversation.  It turns out that the house doesn't really matter.  Not the size.  Not the number of bathrooms, or the outdated Formica countertops or the cracked plaster.  The only thing that matters is what goes on in the house.  Connection and communication.  Growth and laughter.

My house is still like The Mitten.  My daughter is gone.  After five years, my oldest son is temporarily back.  My youngest will go to college in a year and will be in and out with the semesters.  The house can hold us all, loosely or snugly.  Keeping our small mitten house has both brought us joy and given us freedom.  Freedom to retire early and pursue whatever is next.