256 Renovation of the Heart

Renovation of the Heart    

by Teri Merrill

As we perused the rows of tile and granite, my husband leaned over to me and whispered “I have a headache. Are we almost done?” Here was a man who had successfully managed health care systems for decades, yet an hour into choosing our new kitchen countertops, and he was exhausted.

We were in the middle of renovations for an older ranch house that we had purchased four years earlier and rented out, always with the intention of moving in someday. Or should I say it was always my intention. My husband was never fully on board with what I thought was a brilliant plan.

You see, he loved our “big” house and its 11 years of memory making with our children, relatives, friends, and dogs. He cherished the times we sat on the front porch, wine glasses in hand, watching for the first sign of bats as they emerged on summer nights. We both loved the gardens we planted and maintained, and the ever-changing bulbs, flowers, and bushes that were blooming during three seasons of the year.

I loved that house too. But my North Star is practicality, and as our children grew up and flew the nest, I couldn’t stop hearing the quiet, empty spaces, or noticing the knick-knacks gathering dust, or looking at the stairs with trepidation. All three levels of the house were starting to feel a bit more cumbersome and a lot less comfortable. Not for my husband, though. He’s a creature of habit, and his routine for the past decade was cemented into the foundation of that place.  

The ranch house that we bought had been built in 1980, and very little had been updated since that time. Nevertheless, I could feel the calm emanating from its well-worn hominess. The property is in town, on a hill and next to a woods, and I could imagine us sitting in the backyard, wine glasses in hand, watching for the first sign of bats as they emerged on summer nights.

Despite his misgivings, my husband agreed to the timeline of renovating the house in the fall of 2020, with a move-in date in mid-spring the next year.  Most of the world was in lockdown or homebound due to the pandemic, so renovating a house during this time seemed to be a perfect project for a newly retired professional who used to fill his 24-hour day schedule with 48 hours of work. I figured he would crush our timeline in half with his prior business schedule.  

Every week brought new decisions and “homework” from our contractor, from researching products, to reading customer reviews, to visiting showrooms, and perusing websites. My husband honestly didn’t enjoy the process and left many of the decisions to me, unless it was absolutely necessary to get his buy-in.

That, of course, left me a nervous wreck. We have renovated rooms over the years, but never an entire house. I would wake in the night, going over my tile or ceiling fan or bathroom vanity or flooring choices, only to panic and change everything the next morning. I would talk to our contractor for ideas, but often decisions were just “gut” choices that felt right.

We were lucky that very few purchases were delayed due to the supply chain slowdown. We were very lucky that our contractor brilliantly anticipated decisions and ensured that the project was constantly moving forward, and not sitting stagnant for days and weeks, as so many projects do. We were lucky that our big home sold quickly. We were lucky that we had time and could move many smaller items on our own, so that when the big moving day came, only the large items were left.

Turns out, renovating wasn’t the challenge after all—reshaping our future was. Less than a week after our move, my husband was drinking coffee and walking through the house, taking it all in and commenting on how easy the house is to live in. “You were right,” he acknowledged. “This is a great house.” As my chin hit the floor, I realized even a husband’s heart can be renovated!

Now we are enjoying our beautiful downsized home, which feels perfectly right-sized to us. The gardens in front and the woods at the rear beckon us each day. Oh, and those bats…it’s just about time to bring out the wine glasses and spot the first one of the evening.       

                                               Teri