What I’ll miss most is that moment when people visit the house for the first time–the moment when they step inside and their eyes light up at the living room’s glow. How they marvel at the unconventional choices that came together to feel so inviting. I’ll miss remembering the risks I took, many unwittingly–the six coats of paint that made the midnight blue walls possible, the look on my mother-in-law’s face when we chose the burgundy curtains and her relief when she saw them in context. I’ll miss the way all the colors come together in that pleasing little hodge-podge entryway, with its rust-colored medallion, offered as a gift. I’ll miss the feel of the clear-pine woodwork that I insisted on sanding and finishing, the guilty indulgence that is an easy-close drawer, the absurdity of gobbling warm angel food off of freshly minted uba-tuba granite. I’ll miss how we fought for our color choices, and the joy I got from seeing the result turn out far better than either of us would ever have imagined. Though I’d never want to go through it again, I’ll savor the bittersweet memory of once upon a time when together we wrought something truly special.