From just practical to just right—our new apartment
We kept going back to it. The first time I showed the listing to Asher, two months into our apartment search, he scoffed at the price. The second time, a couple weeks later, he ran across the listing and asked me if I wanted to see it. I shrugged it off—I told him I didn’t feel any sort of way about the apartment, so we both forgot about it. The third time was after a heartbreak over our dream apartment, and we both agreed to attend the showing because, why not? We didn’t have any serious prospects at the time, and it was on the way to another apartment we were already planning to look at. It was just a matter of convenience.
My first thought as we entered the apartment was that it was just okay. It lacked all of the personality I yearned for in a home (elaborate crown moulding, walls of built-in shelves, etc.), and it wasn’t in our dream neighborhood, but it had a good layout, decent-sized rooms, and a washer/dryer—a first for us in New York City. Asher and I sped through each room, giving it each a quick glance, and considered our options. Would the second bedroom work for an office that will eventually transition into a nursery? Could we work with the smaller-than-tiny kitchen that was basically just a hallway? Is there enough natural light in all the rooms? Even though we were satisfied with all the answers, we were still, at best, lukewarm about the space. Perhaps it was because we were still cradling a broke heart over the loss of the last apartment. Perhaps we were just looking for the impossible at that point. We were just anxious to move on to the next showing.
But we kept going back to it. We kept talking about how convenient the location is, a stone throws away from our favorite parks and public transportation. We talked about how nice it would be to have a wood-burning fireplace, especially in the dead of winter. We reminded each other of how the living spaces and bedrooms were bigger than what we hoped for, giving our little family more room to grow into. And as we continued to revisit this “just practical” apartment in our conversations, our imaginations started transforming the space into something else.
Suddenly the living room wasn’t just a square empty room with scuffed walls. We filled it with built-in shelves, lined the walls with colorful art, refinished the fireplace façade, and placed our couch front and center where we can share our nightly bowl of popcorn while the fire cackles gently in front of us. The kitchen wasn’t just cabinets and appliances squeezed into a hallway. It took on a rustic charm, with sage green cabinets for a brighter space that felt connected to the many plants on the windowsill. Reclaimed wood shelves replaced the cabinets and wrapped around the walls, giving the room a more designated feel while also maximizing storage space to display our collection of spices, mismatched plates, and vibrant yellow cookware.
Room by room—we begin to picture the space with our treasures. We started telling the stories that will eventually fill this home, stories that have yet to be written, but are already there. Our sweet dog, Beezus, chasing the sunbeams around the apartment every morning, trying to find one that lasts just long enough for a quick nap. Our precious cat, Princessa, stretching out on our bed, kneading her little paws as Asher gives her chin rubs. And hopefully one day, a family of three, snuggled together on the couch, sharing a pizza, our cheeks flushed with the excitement of the day.
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All four Krupniks sat in the study, in front of a roaring fire in the fireplace, with a huge pizza on the big coffee table. Strings of cheese dangled from their chins. A Beethoven symphony played on the stereo. Outside, the wind howled and a tree branch tapped against the side of the house.
“Isn’t this great?” asked Anastasia’s father. “Isn’t this the best of all possible worlds? Don’t you feel as if you have absolutely no problems on a cozy night like this?” —Lois Lowry