She turned my house into a home

In August, my girlfriend moved in with me. Not that we wanted to live together, but more that we had to. She had to choose between sleeping in a park and sleeping in my bed: she opted for the latter. People warned us: we would see the worst in each other; this would end our relationship; we would both get bored. But how could I see the worst in a girl who wakes up before me just to run and make me some warm tea as soon as I open my eyes? How could I wish for this relationship to end when, fully asleep, she tells me she loves me? How could we get bored when every day is a new adventure full of laughter?

Yes, we built a routine over time. But our routine is breakfast in bed every morning, pillow fights on Sundays, and holding hands while running from the bathroom to the bedroom every evening after having brushed our teeth. It is also bonding through cooking incredible meals, going out to see our friends, and date nights on the bedroom floor. It is lighting a candle in the evening, cuddling under the blankets, and saying four times that we have to sleep but still playing the Sims for three more hours. I have never found this routine boring. I do not find a routine that implies waking up next to the love of my life and falling asleep in her arms every day boring. I will never find a routine consisting of caring for each other, waking up early when the other needs us, and staying up late together boring.

Of course, we went through some rough times. After all, balancing studies, social life, and personal health is never easy. I felt guilty for going out and having fun with friends while she was alone studying at home. She felt bad for sleeping while I was crying over a paper. This is the normal life of students. I think that making room for her in my personal space was the trickiest challenge of all. I had to move furniture, make space for her fifty different hobbies, and replace some of my books with hers. I had to accept that what used to be my room was now ours; that everything I owned was now shared with this tiny green-haired girl. And weirdly enough, that was for the better. It was changing this bedroom, moving these things around, adding a bit of her in every corner, that turned my house into a home. She turned this space in a random shared flat into a sanctuary. 

I will always remember when I moved to the Netherlands in 2021 and was struggling to feel like I belonged there, like this was where I should be, a very good friend of mine told me: “home is wherever you are with the person you love the most.” Home was where my girlfriend’s smile was; where I could hear her sing while writing my essays; where I could safely cry and release the pressure that was bursting in my head. Home has always been around her. And it will always be. She will turn every single crappy house into a home, I know it for a fact.





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