I have loved my little bungalow by the sea for nearly three years now. I have a somewhat odd relationship with places I live. I often consider them alive and quiet soulful beings; friends, really. I take care of them, and they take care of me. Predictably, I find it emotionally challenging to leave a house I have loved, a house that has been good to me, because it’s not unlike parting with a close friend. It’s not surprising that now, having to leave my beloved bungalow for financial (and some emotional) reasons, I’m feeling sad at the thought of abandoning such a good friend, and I hope that it’s well taken care of after I’m gone.

Though I loved the house from the moment I stepped inside, it took all this time to feel like I had achieved a point where I was creatively happy with it, and it’s hard to believe the before and afters sometimes:

There was still a lot to do, like finish the bedroom and bathroom and clean up the outside. But like any good project, it never would have been truly finished, and so I pass on this wonderful friend to someone new. Here’s hoping it will be as good to you as it was to me.