The smell of Murphy’s Oil Soap stings my nose and eyes. It’s such an old fashioned smell and it reminds me that the methodical, intricate scrubbing I’m doing on my cabinets is something generations have done before me. I clean the cabinets, getting in all of the crevices, sweeping my rag in the dark depths of the emptied cabinets, following the same motions with a dry towel. Before moving on, I replace the hardware. New hardware. New hardware, chosen by us. The cement board under my knees, speckled with green screws will soon be covered by new tile. New tile, chosen by us.
My eyes wonder around the rest of the kitchen. It is emptied of all furniture. The carpet is gone. Piles of old hardware from the cabinets are in neat stacks beside the new handles. The blinds are gone, revealing a sliding door that will soon be replaced with a new door. A new French door, chosen by us. My eyes pause at the new light fixture and the way the sun toys through the colors of it. A new light, chosen by us. I consider my new window treatments. New window treatments, chosen by us.
What began as a generous Christmas gift of new tile for our kitchen, breakfast, area, bathroom, and back hall has turned into an all out remodeling of those areas. Right now I sit in the kitchen, imagining how all the new will work together. Tomorrow I will go shopping for all things new in the bathroom, and the closets, and a back door. It makes me realize how a home reflects the people who live there. I’m excited about creating these spaces for my family, instead of living in a space made for someone else. How long until these things no longer feel new and just feel like home?
TWO WRITING TEACHERS 
We just redid our kitchen a little more than a year ago. Just like you, I love that we made it our own.
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