When we pulled up to our new home in a small town in the pitch dark, I was overwhelmed by the size of the moon and the sky blanketed with bright and scary stars. I remember closing my eyes quickly and getting nauseous. My heart began to race and my mom became concerned about my breathing. I gripped my backpack as my sister led me inside this empty new house and sat me on the floor. When she asked what was wrong, I answered. She laughed. So did everyone else.
When I accepted Josh’s marriage proposal, I accepted way more than I realized. I accepted that he wanted to stay in this city (a bit too close to the in-laws) and that this was going to be my home. Love blinded me when I made the decision to settle down in this, what I thought, dead end location. I complained about it’s noisy people and it’s streets that seemed to be cramped with houses. I would even complain about the little things like how young the trees are on our street and how my children would be taller than them once they were teenagers. My poor Husband would apologize each time (but not agree to move. How about that?) until one day, he grabbed my hand and said:
“Let’s go for a walk.”
I knew when we bought that house, that we were in a sought after neighborhood. It’s not nearly as ritzy as the neighboring Chestnut Hill but Germantown is a scenic, historic and diverse part of Philadelphia. There are grand homes that still stand and are inhabited after a three hundred+ years. Some of them so amazingly preserved by generations of families. Many of the streets still have the original cobblestone and brick road (ours included!). Some of the landscaping is as old as some of the houses. Our home is 113 years old and we found out that our azalea bush was a wedding gift to it’s original owner and is 92 years of age. I mean, wow.
Here are a few photos I took with my iPhone during my walk home from work. They really don’t do the beauty of Germantown justice. I think it’s safe to say that I’m smitten.