I stepped out of the car into the driveway of our new house. I stretched my aching limbs. I looked over and saw my husband doing the same. After our nine hour drive from Florida to North Carolina, a good stretch is just what we needed. My husband walked over to my side of the car and squeezed me in a tight hug.

"Well, we made it. This is our first home together. How do you like it?"

I scrutinized the old, two-story house. I noticed the chipped white paint, the rusted gutters hanging from the roof, and the cobwebs that seemed to be everywhere. But I also noticed other things, like the beautiful white flowers with hummingbirds flying around them, and the early-morning dew that accumulated on the fresh green grass, the quaint little shutters that adjourned the windows. I looked up at my husband's pleased face and pulled his lips to mine. "It's perfect."

We walked in perfect harmony up the front porch steps leading to the threshold. He swooped me off my feet and held me in his arms like I weighed nothing.

"Ben," I exclaimed, laughing. "What are you doing?"

"A man is supposed to carry his wife over the threshold of their first house," he smiled warmly at me. I chuckled as he had trouble unlocking the door with me in his arms. He finally set me down so he could let us in. I laughed at him as he resorted to holding the door open for me.

When we stepped inside and looked around, we were amazed at the beauty and simplicity of the house. The living room had a simple wooden floor stretching across the whole area and continuing into the open dining space. To our right there was a stone fireplace and the walls were a sort of cream color, like the color you would see a bride's wedding dress in.

We stepped into the dining room. There was a large window displaying the brilliant back yard. There was a garden to the left and a homemade wooden swing set and play area to the right.

The rest of the house followed suite. The wooden floor continued in every room except the bedrooms and in every room, except the bathroom, there was at least one large window. The house had a certain charm to it, that even with its outdated appliances and carpets, it was breathtaking.

After thoroughly exploring the house, Ben and I sat on the porch steps, waiting for the vehicle with our furniture to arrive.

I examined Ben, sitting beside me. His expression was quiet and brooding. "What are you thinking about?" I inquired.

"Hmm?" he said snapping out of whatever train of thought he was on. I repeated my question. "Well, I was just thinking of all the memories we will make here. What our children will think of the house," his eyes swept over my face, judging my expression. I gave him a shy smile, he seemed pleased so he continued. "I mean, this house already has so many memories packed into the very foundation of the house. I can just feel it, just imagine all the new ones we will make." I nodded, as this reflected my own thoughts.

Just then, the van lugging the trailer with our furniture came into view. Ben smiled and pulled me up with him. As he told the workers where everything will go, I admired my house once again. It's just so perfect. I'm afraid if I blink it will just disappear.

The next few hours were spent getting all of the furniture and boxes into the house. When all that was left in the trailer was heavy things, I started organizing. I started in the kitchen. As I was unwrapping the newspaper-clad glassware, I sang in a subdued tone. The bright kitchen lightened my mood, if at all possible. I cheerily put everything on the counter and started cleaning the inside of the fridge and cupboards. An hour later I had everything clean and started putting the glass away, when Ben came in all sweaty.

"We have everything put in the right place; we just have to unpack the boxes. Are you okay here alone for a little bit? I have some business to do in town."

"Yeah, go ahead. I'll be fine." I gave him a wide smile and kissed his cheek. After he left I felt like I should freshen up. After all, a long car ride doesn't always make people smell all fresh and rosy. I finished up what I was doing and went up to the second floor to take a shower.

After my shower, as I was heading to my bedroom to change, something caught my eye. There was a door that I hadn't noticed on my first exploration of the house. It was tucked into a corner of the hallway. I went ahead and changed and came back to examine it closer.

The door was different that all the others. This one was made out of a rough, dark wood and unfinished while all the other doors were painted white and smooth. I reached out for the handle. A loud noise caught me by surprise. I gasped and jumped back staying still for a moment and listening. I heard it again. I looked down at the floor and laughed at myself. It was just my phone ringing in the other room. I hurried and picked it up.

It was Ben, just calling to check in. I went back and opened the strange door. It opened to a third staircase, leading up to a dark room above. I rushed up the stairs, the curiosity killing me. I entered a room that was covered in dust. There was a small circular window to the right that showed the front road. "The attic," I muttered to no one in particular. There was nothing in the room except a single chest. I wiped off the dust, revealing an intricately carved design chiseled into the antique chest. I opened the bronze latch that held it close and looked inside. There was nothing in it. I sighed, disappointed. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed something, a small white triangle protruding out of what seemed like the bottom of the chest. I reached down to grab it and pulled a old, yellowed picture out of the dirt and dust that had covered the whole surface of it.

The picture looked to be at least fifty years old, damaged by a flood and yellowed by old age. There were five figures staring back at me. An older man and woman were standing in front of our very own fireplace in the living room, with three young children standing at their feet. There was something different about this fireplace, it seemed, newer somehow. The stones were more pronounced and the floor was shiny. It amazed me how much time can change things.

My mind quickly wandered elsewhere as I thought back to my earlier conversation with Ben. I thought of the memories that must have been theirs that my husband was so sure he felt in the foundation of the house. I thought of how we hoped our future children would like it. I hoped that someday when Ben and I became old, that we would take a picture just like this one in front of the same fireplace, with our children standing at our feet. I hoped that when we sell our house to a newly married couple they would find our picture and think of the memories that they will have here.

I smiled at the soon to be memories and placed the picture back into the chest. I sat there for a while, letting my mind wander. I got up and went to greet my husband when I heard his car come. My face was exuberant as I told him my discovery.