The waiting is the hardest part—but so worth it

After months of waiting, Kelly and I experienced something this morning I once thought we'd never get to do. We drove up to the house for about the millionth time, did a pre-move-in walkthrough with the project manager and our real estate agent, and learned—finally—the house's "official" completion date. The day we'll become homeowners, a status that seemed unattainable just several months ago.

Drum roll, please.

After initially being told the house would be finished in October, we found that it will be completed on August 12.

Gulp. That's, um, 23 days. Yikes.

Mind you, our mortgage approval is still pending, even if the bank is telling us it's down to pass the appraisal and we're good to go. And of course, we're living in an apartment, meaning we need to give at least thirty day's notice to our landlord. So even if we gave notice today, we'd have some overlap, and we're not going to give notice until we get word on the mortgage.

But it's getting so close we can smell it. And above all, there's the beauty that, after moving 14 times in the 19 years we've been married and twice in the last eight months, this should be our last move for the foreseeable future. Did I just type that? Somebody pinch me, please.

Still, it's a good thing I cut my nails this morning. I don't normally bite on them, but it's likely going to be a crazy few weeks ahead. Pack, unpack, try to decorate with our limited and beat-up furniture, get ready for the start of school a week or so later...wow. But it's all good. And long-awaited.

Standing in the kitchen today as we went over things, I struggled not to picture myself preparing food while gazing out into the great room, and beyond into the backyard, upon friends and family members gathered in the house. It was a lovely vision, and I easily could have become lost in it, except...

SNAP! Back to reality. Talk of escrow, rent backs, and other such things made me realize that, for a few more days at least, I have to hold back. At least a little. Kelly and I don't anticipate any problems, based on what we've been told by the bank. But until we get that stamp of approval—and the 360-payment obligation to go with it—I feel the need to resist attaching myself emotionally to the house. Because anything's possible, much as I hate to admit it or face up to it.

So, it'll be a welcome distraction when Terry, his wife, Rhonda, and their daughters, Dana and Emma, come into town this weekend for a visit. Yes, we'll take them to see the house, and yes, I'll undoubtedly slip into "can't wait until we can have them up for a visit here" mode. But in the back of my mind, there will be a little voice reminding me to hold on. Go slow. And hold back. Just in case.

And, I'm trying to figure out whether, once we're approved, things are going to go ridiculously fast ("Hurry! We need to pack so we can move again!"), or painfully slow ("Geez, can't we just get into the house already?"). I imagine it will be a little—or more likely, a lot—of both.

Those of you who own homes are probably laughing at me by now. But I don't care. C'mon, I've never been through this. And all I know is, it felt so good walking through that ever-closer-to-being-completed house this morning that, no matter how agonizing the wait, it's gonna be one heck of a glorious day when we finally put the key in the lock, turn it, and walk through a doorway we can call "ours."

Or, at least "ours and the bank's." But as my father-in-law, Dale, pointed out recently, it'll sure be nice to throw out the boxes we've moved so many times once and for all. In fact, I don't want to even see a box inside the house once we're settled in.

A box-less house? Now that is a glorious vision, indeed.