A year ago today, we endured one of the most physically challenging feats (other than drive-you-to-the-brink-of-insanity-sleep-depravation) and packed our two little boys, two cats, a dog and two massive moving trucks to move to our current home. Given that today is the anniversary of the closing on our house, it seems appropriate to share our experience from this past weekend. We were honored to be approached by the Historic Wilmington foundation, to show our house on their post Thanksgiving tour on Sunday. Nothing produces anxiety for me more than the prospect of large numbers of people coming into my house, especially strangers. But, once the prep work was completed, I was afforded the opportunity to talk to our guests and I thoroughly enjoyed meeting people who took a true interest in the history and architecture of our home. To top it all off, we got to meet three generations of people who grew up here. We listened to their sweet stories. We met the woman whose parents moved here from Holland and built the house in 1937. She shared a story about having her first kiss in our living room. We also met a gentleman who spent his childhood growing up in the house. He reminisced about watching the lunar landing in what is now our master bedroom and playing with his friends in the attic. It was an enormously gratifying experience.