Fixer-Upper

First, Rob hopped on his bike with our baby on the back--he was curious about the handwritten address I mentioned next to the phone. When I joined them the next day, I saw the "no occupancy" sign taped to the front door for myself. Chalky green paint fell off the wooden shutters in large flakes. Peering through a first-floor window, red shag carpet called boldly from inside the empty room. In the back yard, 2 feet of fallen leaves covered the ground, unfamiliar with a seasonal rake.

Once inside, a coat of mold covered plywood cabinets; the pattern on the linoleum floor was lost to years of wear. The only furniture that remained was a computer desk combo, weighed down by the machinery it stored inside. Divets in the walls revealed a multi-colored history of paint color. The bedrooms were tiny, the bathrooms original. The screened porch was ripped, and the shrubs were overgrown. 

It was exactly the kind of house we were ready for.