For years Tom and I have toyed with the idea of remodeling our house. It's about 70 years old, a bungalow. Very cute. Lots of character. Home, sweet home!
It's small. 1100 square feet. In the 1940's a medium sized family would live in a home like ours. Medium sized, you know, two parents, two or three kids, and a dog. The doorways are arched, there are many large, lovely, leaky windows made of wood and glass, the layout is simple and sensible, the doorknobs are glass. The front door is solid and heavy and sticks when it rains so that you have to bump it a few times to get it open. The grated floor furnace ticks soothingly at night as it pumps heat into our rooms. The antique window screens are easy to unlatch and wash, and they keep the bugs out just fine.
We've updated, added some personal touches, made it more comfortable, a little more fuel efficient.
This little house has played a major role in creating a very close-knit family. It has character, humility, charm, and comfort. Its cozy size has forced us to master social skills such as sharing, consideration, and generosity. When you get mad there is nowhere to run. You slam a door and the whole house shakes. You holler and the neighbors know your business. It keeps you honest. You care about a distraught person when you can hear them crying in the next room. You go to them. You can't ignore the many moods whether happy, excited, frustrated, sad, or cranky. You learn to control yourself, and you learn to communicate. The living space, being common to all, creates a healthy knowing.
Tom and I agree, we could live anywhere and be a loving family, but it's easier here where the air is fresh, and the character is genuine.