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Ever since I’d first seen this photograph, I was convinced that this was the place – the “house in the countryside” that my husband Scott and I had been talking about for some time now:
There was land, a beautiful view, a pond to swim in, and even a wraparound porch. What more could we ask for?
By the time we’d finally made the time for the drive up to Washington County, NY, it was the dead of winter. Three massive snow storms had already blown in and out, and another was on the way. But, Scott and I were game for some house hunting, and so we drove on. Of course, all that I could think about was that house, looking (miraculously) fresh and green, just as it did in that brochure.
Scott cautioned about the snow, about deceptive pictures could be, how this house may not be the one. But, I was already deciding on paint colors, furniture, and where to place a porch swing or two. I had, already, “moved in”.
When we turned into the driveway, I felt as though I’d arrived home. Even the piles and piles of gleaming white snow somehow looked familiar – I could see the contours of the wide front yard and the pond; they were exactly as I’d imagined.
But, when we stepped into the house, I just knew – this was definitely not the one. Rooms I felt I had walked around and settled into, were just not right. The positions of the windows, proportions of the rooms, even curve of the stairway, felt somehow quite wrong. Disoriented and disappointed, I made my way through the tour, shedding my visions one by one.
We made our way past the still glistening snowbanks on either side of the driveway, and turned away in silence. “Well,” said Scott, “not quite what you expected.”
I shook my head, not quite trusting myself to speak.
“There will be another one, the right one,” he promised.
I nodded my head. Next time, though, I’ll wait to “move in”.