In just a few short weeks, the reconstruction of our house will be completed and we will be able to move back into the place that has been our home for nearly 20 years.
It's a brick tudor, built somewhere shy of 100 years ago, and it will be both old and new. Old because the outside structure of the house was untouched by the fire. New because the basement and first floor were completely gutted and rebuilt, along with all of the house's infrastructure. New wiring, new plumbing, new heating plant, new floors, new walls, new windows.
What remains is the place we have raised our children, the structure that contains a good chunk of the memories of our lives.
Through the fear, that terrible day itself, in the days that followed when we were utterly lost in shock and dismay, through the months of displacement and rebuilding, I have maintained a steadfast belief in how lucky we are.
Lucky for surviving.
Lucky for the love and support of our communities, our 'tribes' that include family, friends, neighbors.
Lucky for the laughter and stubbornness that kept us moving together as a family.
Thank you, all, for your well wishes and your encouragement. Home is in sight.