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a home + living guide for the post-college, pre-parenthood, quasi-adult generation

10.22.2001

home
editor's note 
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Stain Rx

copyright ©1999-2001
DigsMagazine.com.

home sweet homes  
by Yee-Fan Sun |
1 2 3 4
continued from page 3

If we’d been gung-ho before about setting up house, now, in our very own place(!) we were certifiably obsessed. We made a big long list of necessary home improvements, and set off to work straight away. We landscaped the front yard with native plants, and lay red concrete pavers to make a patio on the side. We built furniture and tiled a room; we became very intimately acquainted with our local Home Depot. Bigger renovations and serious yardwork suddenly seemed more worthwhile, now that we were living in a house we actually owned – every change we made we could rationalize as upping the re-sale value of the house. This house was ours, and like the proud parents of anything beloved, we were wholeheartedly committed to taking care of it as best we could.

A year and half later and I’m still amazed we own this house. In the mornings, with the sun streaming in, I’ll watch the butterflies in my yard while looking out my window, and think how much beauty there is in this place. At night, with the lights turned low and the music up high, Ash and I will dance around to Ellington or Weezer, and there’ll be nowhere else in the world I’d rather be.

This past June, I flew to Boston for a two-week trip, but, thanks to circumstances beyond my control, ended up staying there for a month. I shopped on Newbury Street, browsed books at Wordsworth, ate clam chowder at Legal Sea Foods, had dinner with old college friends at Dali, my favorite restaurant in the world. But each and every night, alone and in a cramped twin bed, I thought about how much I missed Ash and our house back in Tucson.  Now this time, when I flew back into Tucson in early July, I saw its earth-toned craggy landscape and let out a sigh of relief. And when my friends asked how it felt to be back in Tucson, I answered, without even thinking about it at all: “It’s really good to be home at last.”

Boston’s my hometown, now as always, but for now at least, home’s a pink stucco house in the middle of the desert, where a sweet, sweet boy hugs me to sleep each night.

o

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