Life is full of good days: the birth of children and grandchildren, since the word positive appears on that lab report. The news that an illness is completely gone, trips to the beach, reunions with returning relatives, and more.

_{Grown children and granddaughter.}

There is one in particular, which I will never forget and which I relive whenever I want, there is an emotion wrapped up in it that is very pleasant. This is the day that for the first and only time so far I was able to say: “this is my house.”

I was 28 years old at the time, married and had a four-year-old daughter. We lived in my mother-in-law’s house, and although the relationship was good, living in common spaces with other family members and friends in the house was not positive for us as a couple, nor for my daughter, with whom I had my own plans for raising her, which I could not fully exercise.

One day, finally, the opportunity for a mortgage loan presented itself, and through it, we bought a large and spacious house where three more children were born later.

But what makes this fact so special, if you will, normal? That in the house where I grew up, my father always made us see that this house was not ours, but his, personality problems, that although legally it was not true, in my being that did exert a way of being and feeling, it was not my house.

When I had my own, it was as if a breath that had been held back for more than twenty years was finally exhaled. What a genuine feeling of relief. I recall it and my eyes get wet.

The same day they gave us the key we moved in, we arrived washing floors and walls, my daughter ran happily from one side to the other and my smile did not leave my face and my mind, I do not know if I expressed it or carried it inside, but that must be what defines well-being.

That night, exhausted, the three of us slept together, to continue again the next day organizing. I remember that I worked (I was a teacher for more than thirty years), with that emotion intact, I returned home the same way. Practically, I wanted to spend the days there and not go out anywhere, but life has its demands that give no respite.

_{Moments of sharing, small children making music.}

I always hear people complain about their moves and I recall mine with a different feeling. That was the start of a personal life project, and although the divorce came twenty years later, the achievements were not cut short.

In this part of the plain where I live, there is a lot of talk about the "pile-up" house, perhaps because of the pile-up or crowding, and that is what my house became, the place where the whole family gathers for celebrations, birthdays, meals.

_{Grandchildren at home at a celebration.}

Everything has changed after forty years: remodeling, construction. Three of my children live there, the oldest with her family. It's a big house that's already starting to get small and from where today, for health reasons, I am here, and I write this post for the [Silver Blogger] community, thanks to the wonderful Initiative called What do you consider to be one of the best days you can remember @ericvancewalton where we relive events that are kept in our memory.