Either yesterday or today marks twenty years since we bought our house. Twenty years! I will never forget the feeling I got when I walked through the front door for the first time. I immediately knew this was our home.

Of course, did I have any clue what twenty years later would look like? I was in my twenties! We weren’t even engaged yet! Katrina hadn’t happened, and we thought two bedrooms would be PLENTY for the ONE kid we might have one day.

Do I still love our house? I mean, of course. But also of course not. It’s endlessly frustrating but it’s an old house. It’s too small. It’s weirdly laid out. I’d kill for a new kitchen. And new floor downstairs. But it’s where the boys have grown up, and I hope they will always be able to come home to it. (Will they still fit in their triple bunk beds? They’re going to have to!)

As someone who still dreams of the house I grew up in (that we moved out of when I was 17), I feel like it’s very important that they are able to come back to this house. But maybe I’m just overly sentimental. (I know Linus would agree with me, though.)

Just look at the trees!

2004 (I really wish I had a better picture):

2024:

(That’s not the same tree in front of the house. That tree was planted right before Katrina, and it was the size of a pencil.)

Here’s the Bradford pear that Kristina gave us as a housewarming gift when we planted it:

and now:

etc, etc.

Do I think we’ll be in this house in another 20 years? I mean. I kind of hope we aren’t in New Orleans anymore in 20 years, but I guess we’ll see. I do hope if we are, I have a new kitchen, at least.