House is not a home

After over a month of deconstructing, fixing, painting, and building the house my boyfriend and I purchased is almost ready for us to move in.

When we first purchased the home, I felt like I was helping to spruce up someone elses home, not mine. I had a panic attack when we started tearing out the kitchen cabinets that were there because I felt it was someone else's. Even now, after all the planning, and sweat we have put in, overall, this house belongs to someone else.

I can't not go down to the basement in what must have been the work room and wonder what projects the previous owner worked on in there. I can't sit in front of the fireplace without wondering what they did when they sat around the fire. I can't walk around the house without wondering what plans they had for the flower beds.

The feelings that this house is ours, that it is our home, are few and fleeting. While on paper it says the house is ours, and we know somewhere it is ours, at least to me, it is not ours.

I'm still excited to be moving out and starting a new chapter of life, learning to live on my own, anxious to cook in the kitchen that is now just a few days work from being done. I still can't stop thinking about "them", the family that grew up there, the family that lost their home to forclosure. I wonder how they are doing now, and imagine inviting them over for dinner, and fear how they would feel if they knew the changes we were making.

I may call it home when talking to others, but in my heart, this is not my home. This home is still someone else's and I wonder if it will ever be ours.