Today is the day we officially close a foundational chapter in our lives as “Christian & Melissa”.

Christian and I purchased our first home in summer of 2009.  We were 3 months engaged, eager home-buyers looking for that “potential-unlocking” fixer-upper.  The up-and-coming neighbourhood of Leslieville still had the grit of the city, but was showing signs of a changing landscape.  New restaurants were popping up, families were moving in, and the residents had successfully fended off the terror that is Wal-Mart just one year prior. Movement was afoot.

We put in our bid just before the August long weekend and went to the nearby McDonald’s to assess what we had just done.  I distinctly remember the acute need to throw up.  Not from the smell of the aforementioned McDonald’s, but from the sheer panic about the decision we had just made.   In just a few moments, we made the decision to incur the biggest debt we had ever seen, all hanging on the small nest egg that my uber-responsible husband had scrounged and saved into RRSP’s during the previous few years.  Me?  I had nothing but additional student loans to throw into the mix.  We were betting it all on a desperately sad-looking fixer-upper.

But boy, did we have gumption.  That, and a strong sense of purpose: we were going to turn that tiny sum of money into a home, and a life together.  Throw in some major DIY skills from Christian and my early exposure to all things design (as a child, we didn’t go to the zoo….we went to Living Lighting and the Kitchen Cabinet store.  Not kidding.  I could tell you what wainscotting was by age 8) and we could NOT be stopped.

It was, by most respects, the ugliest house on the street.  But it was OURS.  We were going to turn it into our future.

I will never forget the day we got the keys. We drove to our new home and opened the door.  The smell of mould, must and rotten fish was still strong…but it didn’t matter.  We were home. We wandered down Queen Street East, bought some fish n’ chips served in styrofoam as our celebratory meal, and popped the mini bottle of bubbly that I had bought just for the occasion.

At 7am the next morning, we would begin.

And so unfolded four years of nearly never-ending renovations.  Weekend after weekend after weekend of work.  14 hour days. Aching backs.  Bloody knuckles.  Loss of sleep. Living in dust and dirt.  Saying no to most social events because we had to “work on the house”.  Avoiding trips and costly outings because that money could go to a sink or a fixture or some other coveted item at Home Depot. Always the house.  Room by room and space by space, we slowly made it our own. Together.  I’ve often said that renovating a house with your spouse is like marriage counselling 101.  The joy, the tears; pushing you to the brink and then just a little but further.  Yelling.  Fighting.  Laughing.  Crying.

“It’s your fault we got into this in the first place!!” I would exclaim to my tireless worker of a husband.

And here I am, 7 years later, writing an ode to that place.

I’ll never forget our first Christmas together at Larchmount Ave.  It was early December, and we were scrambling to finish a few final touches on our first (of many) rounds of renovations.  Not only was it Christian’s birthday celebration, it was also our first Huggett Christmas Party (which is now an annual ‘do, 7 years later), and a big open house to welcome our friends and family to come see what we had been tirelessly been working on for months on end (and why we had been so darned anti-social).  The debutant ball for our home.

It’s 11pm and we are racing to finish in preparation for the party the following day.

“We have to put up the tree”, I said.  “It’s the best part…we can’t have a Christmas party in our new home without a Christmas tree!”

I had lovingly picked out ornaments and determined a colour scheme for our very first Christmas tree.  We put on Mariah Carey’s Christmas album (what else?), made Bailey’s and hot chocolate, and got to it.  At approximately midnight, we were ready to move onto to final part: ornaments!!

I excitedly unwrapped all of our new, sparkling, ornaments from their packaging, only to realize that I had forgotten to buy ornament hangers.  It was a real pine Christmas tree, and the ornaments simply would not stay on the tree without hangers.

My eyes welled with tears and my lip trembled.

It wasn’t about the tree, the ornaments, or even Christmas.  It was about the fact that we had reached that moment of the JOY of decorating together, in our first home, after months of painstaking renovations, only to realize that we couldn’t finish.

Christian looked at my face and knew that we had to complete the tree.

He ran out back to where our growing junk pile of renovation debris was, and came back with an arm-load of old electrical wire that we had removed from the house.  Without missing a beat, he pulled out his wire cutters, pried back the plastic casing, and started fashioning copper-based Christmas ornament hooks from the electrical wire.

Through my tear-filled eyes, I realized what he was doing, and broke into a huge smile. We hung all our ornaments that night with those quirky, mis-matched copper-wire & plastic hand-made ornament hangers.

Still to this day, we proudly point out the remaining copper-wire ornament hangers on our Christmas tree and tell that story.  It’s just one reminder of all the experiences we shared together in those years at Larchmount.

The truth is, I could write for hours about that house.

The creak of the floorboards.  The sound of kids playing across street at the school.  Getting ready for our wedding in the living room with my sister, mom and closet friends.  Sitting in the backyard with friends on hot summer nights.  Warding off raccoons.  My sister’s “injury incident” on our back steps.  Welcoming our first basement tenants.  Meeting our amazing neighbours.  Watching Leslieville grow and evolve.  Welcoming friends into our home for parties, dinners, drinks.  Hosting the Larchmount-Caroline laneway sale.  Countless Pho dinners at Hainoi.  Leaking ceilings, shattered glass tables, halloween haunted “porches”, laughing, crying.  So much life.  So much love.

[Photo Credit: Claudia Hung Weddings]

Although we moved out nearly three years ago into our new home, a part of us always remained there.  Our renters took care of it as though it were there own, and in one of those amazing circumstances in life where things just simply fall into place, they are now the official new owners of our very first home on Larchmount Ave, and we couldn’t be happier.

(Bonus: its actually my colleague, so we get to continue to see the evolution of little Larchmount Ave as they create their own memories and home).

It’s the easiest way for me to say goodbye to a place that meant to much to Christian and I.

Growing up in a family where moving was essentially a hobby, I was surprised by how much that home meant to me.  I cried the day we moved out, looking back at our empty living room and family room, and thinking back to all those moments we shared together. I could still see the renovation debris all over the floor from the first demo.  I could still see that first quirky Christmas Tree in the corner.  Our first hideous Craigslist couches in the living room.

So now we look forward to new places, new moments and new memories together…and all with our son, Harrison.  4 years felt like a lifetime in the midst of those renovations, but it’s just a blip in the history of the Happy Healthy Huggetts!

So…cheers to you, Larchmount Ave.  We toast in your honour tonight.  May you continue to provide life, love and happiness to your very lucky new owners.