Fixer upper

Grinning, he carried his bride over the threshold and set her on her feet. “Welcome home, honey.” He said, sweeping the room with his right hand. He flipped on the overhead lamp, illuminating the bare room.
“It looks different without the furniture.” She sounded disappointed, and he knew she was. They had looked at so many houses. On a limited budget, this one was the best they could afford.
Now that it belonged to them. Well, the bank and them. How exciting it was to sign the contract! Stepping to the wall, she ran her fingers over the old faded wall paper. The cracked plaster, the faded woodwork, the damp smell coming from the basement. The house set vacant for more than a year.
He smiled at her. His bride, his wife. The one two weeks ago he promised to stand by in sickness and health. The woman he loved more than any other human.
“This is great. Over the next year, we will change every room.” He tried to sound enthusiastic. To help her catch the excitement in his voice. He hoped she did. “What room do you want to start in?”
Opening the door on the north side of the living room, she looked at the ugly pink bathroom. “Here.” She said with determination.

That night, they ate burgers from McDonald’s and slept on an old mattress on the floor.
Over the next week, they brought in the furniture they purchased at yard sales. After laying out their plan, they started in the bathroom. And for the next month, he tore out and replaced the stool tub and basin. One night, he cleaned plaster out of the tub so she could take a bath.
For three Saturdays in May, he, his father and brothers, replaced the roof. Starting in June, she painted the outside of the house. He came home one night to find her covered in plaster from the living room. Over the weekend, they tore the walls down to the 2 by 4s. It took a month to rebuild the living room. They took a week off, then started in the kitchen. They purchased carpets at yard sales. They worked together on the lawn. Replacing the rotted picket fence. One Sunday afternoon, she painted one side of the fence while he painted the other. Laughing, they painted the gate, then each other. When it became too cold to work outside, they moved indoors.

One night in January he came home too tired to work on the house. She greeted him with a smile and said she had started in the last room. The second bedroom. Taking him by the hand, she asked him to close his eyes. She guided him down the hallway to the bedroom. Opening the door, she told him to open his eyes. He did and saw a crib setting in the middle. He turned to her. She smiled at him. “You’re going to be a father.”
After a celebratory meal, they worked on the new nursery until midnight. They left off the color until she found out the gender of the baby. Then they painted the walls blue. Six months later, they welcome their baby boy into their little family. He couldn’t wait to get home from work. She met him at the door excitedly, telling of something new their baby boy did that day.

Three years later she stood on the lawn looking at the house, her eyes moist. Now some new couple would take over. Their little boy played at her feet. Her husband smiled at her. He held open the door of their car.
“Ready?” her husband said.
She smiled at him. “Yes, honey.” Taking her son by his hand she guided him to the car and buckled him in the back seat.
She wiped tears from her eyes. This house held so many wonderful memories. Today they were moving. He put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway. Turning her head, she watched the old house vanish from sight. They were on their way to a new home. There, they would build more memories, but they would never forget their first home.