Sometimes I walk through our house and catch glimpses of the past and present layered right on top of each other, a memory and a moment sharing the same hallway.

This is the house I grew up in.

Though it doesn’t look exactly the same since we bought it back in 2016 and remodeled the entire house from top to bottom, these are still the same floors that carried me and my siblings through scraped knees, teenage tears, and late-night snack raids. And now, it holds our own kids as they tear barefoot down the stairway, laughing over nothing and everything all at once. You can see how we raise our kids in this house here.

Back then, it was me, my brother, and my sister; two boys and a girl. Now, it’s Allan, Riah, and Anna; two boys and a girl. The symmetry of it feels too good to be true. Like life decided to loop back and give us all another go, even though it was a really good childhood the first time around.

This home holds decades of chaos and comfort. The den is where I first saw PJ’s picture on MySpace when I was 15 and instantly fell in love with him. Now that room is the office we both work in together.

The same backyard where we would play on the jungle gym and pick up fallen acorns from the tree is now where our kids kick their soccer ball, play with baby chicks PJ brings home, and shoot basketball when they get home from school. The 100 year old floors in the front room where our Christmas tree used to sit on in front of the three windows are the same ones that welcome our family home when we get back from a long trip. And the same dining room where we used to host family game nights when I was a teenager is where we now all eat together as a family of five.

The front porch always seemed so big to me when I was growing up. I often wonder if it feels big to our kids when they walk up the stairs to the front door, or jump off it onto the sidewalk to ride their scooters. I remember when we toured the house for the first time before buying it back again in 2016, and the porch felt so much smaller than I remember it. I guess that’s what happens when you get older.

my sister, me, and my brother before school early in the morning

Though there isn’t as much room to run around the yard in town as there is at our farm, it’s a great area to raise kids in. Sidewalks galore to ride their bikes down and just steps from parks, there’s a certain communal magic to kids growing up in town.

our front room being painted by my dad in the late 80’s

our front room decorated for halloween last year

There’s also something enchanting about raising your family in the same place you were raised. It’s like the house is in on the secret. It knows the drill. It doesn’t mind the mess. And it holds space for it all: the past, the present, the greasy fingerprints on the back of the dining chairs, the Saturday family movie nights, the homework at the kitchen island. It’s funny how this house feels exactly the same yet completely different at the same time. It feels like the truest definition of home there is.