When we moved into the house, he brought along a collection of furniture and pots and pans and dishes and random household items that had been scavenged from his failed marriage and given by his parents.
Slowly, over the past few years, we have weeded out. We have sold off. We have given away. We have thrown away.
And, slowly, we are building a space of our own. Filled with things that represent him. And me. And us.
When we moved in, it felt like a house. But now, finally, it's turning in to something more.