Vision

A year and a half ago, Zach walked into a house in upstate New York and took a good look around.

He didn't see the dark, musty commercial carpet, worn in spots and scented with wet dog.

He didn't see the white hexagonal tile that covered the floor, countertops, and backsplash in the kitchen, causing vertigo when viewed from the loft above.

He didn't see the garish blue fixtures and the painfully floral wallpaper in the teeny-tiny bathroom on the first floor.

Instead, he saw light and space and possibilities.

He saw a place for family and friends, for leisurely weekends, for quiet evenings and roaring fires.

He saw a house that could become a home.

It's taken longer than we planned.

It's cost more than we expected.

It's been harder than we hoped.

But it is very, very close to done.

Now, when you look around, it's not hard to imagine the finishing touches actually being finished. It's easy to envision the holiday gatherings, the impromptu weekends away, the meals that will be cooked, and the books that will be read.

I couldn't see all that 18 months ago.

But Zach could.

He saw it, and he made it happen.

And here we are.

Tired and broke and very, very happy.