There’s something special about an old house. The kind that creaks with every step, as if it’s whispering stories of those who came before. This house in Galway, nearly two hundred years old, isn’t ours—we’re just renting it for a little while. But already, it feels like more than just a stop along the way.
We’ll be here long enough for Judah’s first milestones, and that’s what will make this place unforgettable. These walls will witness his first wobbly crawl, his determined steps as he learns to stand, and the triumphant moment he finally walks. It’s where he’ll cut his first teeth and where he’ll babble new sounds, practicing the words that will one day spill into sentences.
This is where Judah will celebrate his first Christmas, eyes wide at the lights and the wonder of it all. It’s where we’ll light the candle on his first birthday cake, and where he’ll smear frosting on his cheeks as we clap and cheer. It’s where we’ll sit at the kitchen table, coaxing him to try peas and carrots for the first time, laughing as most of them end up on the floor.
With all of its quirks and character, this house will be where Judah learns the basics of life. It will cradle his beginnings, hold the warmth of his giggles, and bear the marks of his tiny hands pressed against its windows. We won’t be here forever, but this house will forever be part of us.
When it’s time to move on, we’ll leave behind the sound of Judah’s first words and the echoes of his first steps. We’ll take the memories with us, but this house will always carry the imprint of this season—a place where love grew louder and joy became tangible.
Maybe that’s the gift of a house like this. It reminds us that even temporary places can hold eternal things. And though Judah won’t remember this house, we always will. It’s where he started becoming who he is, and in a way, it’s where we did, too.
Westerman.Blog 