We built walls.
We made it bigger.
We created more room.
We added paint,
and a bedroom
and a larger kitchen.
We have a guest bedroom,
and a nice dining area.
We built a house.
And you,
you made a home.
With Sunday breakfast,
and racing around the entire place.
With screams and yells and laughter.
With sitting and watching TV,
with family movie nights and pizza Friday.
With our fights, our makeups,
our hugs.
You made a home.
You made it warm,
and livable,
and inviting
and happy.
You made a mom out of me,
you created motherhood and fatherhood,
you created parents.
I added space, you created love.
I added rooms, you made my heart grow.
I added color, you added warmth.
I added decorations, you added smiles.
I built a house.
Walls, interior stuff, furniture, places to sit.
But it's all stuff.
The reason this place matters is the memories we built inside.
The reason this place matters is because I was standing within these walls when I found out you were coming.
The reason this place matters is because I remember taking you home from the hospital, and showing you your house.
The reason this place matters is because I remember where your first steps were taken.
The reason this place matters is because we celebrated both of your first birthdays here.
The reason this place matters is because of all the Sunday breakfasts we have shared.
The reason this place matters is because of our night time routines and snuggles on your bed.
The reason this place matters is because you built a home.
You made a house a home.
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