It’s amazing how things really come into perspective when your pretty simple existence is thrown into a frenzied uproar. The simplest and quietest moments are magnified in the millions when you don’t even have a place to rest your tired body in your own home after a day of work. We all fall prey to not feeling satisfied with what we have. We end up throwing little pity parties for ourselves because something didn’t work out like we’d hoped it would, or maybe we didn’t have enough money for that one cool “thing” we wanted. I’ve been in that spot. Hell, I’ll probably be in that spot in a week or two. It’s being human. We all occasionally feel like we’re owed a little more than we got. It’s not a bad thing. Goals push us to succeed. But just as long as we don’t forget what’s really important. You know, the good stuff. The stuff that makes this crazy world worth a damn. The love given to us and the love taken from us. A warm place to rest our head. A sturdy roof to keep us safe from the storm.

The simplest of things.

Having our home torn up has been painful. We’ve never lived extravagantly. My wife and I have lived in our 1,170 square foot ranch home for almost 21 years. We built it as two barely 20-somethings stepping out into the world of grown-ups. We didn’t know what the hell we were doing, but we knew that building a home was a good place to start. We didn’t shoot for the moon, we just built what two newly married kids with a decent credit score could build. That decision has been a good one for us, and to us. We’ve raised three amazing kiddos and three pooches in that home. It’s seen its fair share of happiness and sadness; good times and not-so good times. All in all, it’s been our shelter from both outside forces and internal drama. Three bedrooms upstairs for quiet moments of reflection. A living room where we, well, live. Watching movies, listening to records, conversations filled with laughter(and sometimes not so much laughter), coffee mornings with my dad, and family time with Apples To Apples on Christmas Eve. It’s a place where decisions have been made and kids have laughed loud and hard. A dining room where meals were shared and birthday cakes cut. Year after year our kids get older, yet they’re never too old to blow out candles on a cake. A kitchen where meals have been cooked, desserts created, and many pots of coffee brewed. The kitchen is where the heart of the home beats, in my opinion. Every great decision should be made over a plate and a cup. Minds think more clearly when the body is replenished and caffeine is consumed.

Our house will heal. It’ll soon be back to its top form, with new amenities and prettier furniture(that will hopefully last us a good long while.) New carpet to replace the old that saw more action than Chuck Norris in the 80s. Us Hubners are hearty. We are already healing, slowly. It helps we’re currently in a secret hilltop location planning our next move. Even the dog came along for this adventure. He’s one of us, you know. He’s a Hubner, whether he likes it or not.

I do miss those simple creature comforts, though. First and foremost my record player. The Audio Technica AT-PL120. It’s been a workhorse turntable. Bought it in 2008 and it’s been a good friend since. I miss sitting in my chair and spinning records. Watching the red glow from it as it weaves musical magic with the Ortofon 2M Red cartridge digging into the grooves of the vinyl. “Hey Owen, could you grab me another beer?”, I can hear myself saying. I also miss sleeping in my bed. It was torn apart after the bug disaster was discovered. Sleeping on old furniture in the basement has taken its toll(on both my spirit and my back.) I’m thankful we have a basement that’s partially finished to escape to, but still. Nothing like your own bed to slip into the abyss of sleep with. Being in a rental cabin I also miss things like sharp knives, quality pans, and spatulas that don’t bend with the slightest of pressure. Still, I’m glad this vacation was planned when it was. Worked out as perfect as it could have.

Plus, there’s good beer in fridge. That’s a small miracle right there. And a pool table in the game room. That’s been a blast.

We’re dealing with minor setbacks here, not the end of the world. It felt like the end of the world a few times, but when you’re in the thick of it things seem worse than they are. The house may be bare, but the home still stands.

The love keeps growing, rain or shine.

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