Since embarking on this project I’ve struggled to explain why we bought our Detroit house. Despite writing for a living, I’ve yet to arrive at the right combination of words that will explain to others (and myself) why we did this. The editors at The Morning News were kind enough to allow me more than 4,000 words to attempt to explain. In the end the story became about the fact that I’m still at a loss for words, and a very public attempt to process my feelings on it all – the good, the bad, and the awful.
I can’t explain to people why we bought a house in Detroit.
I can’t explain it to myself when I’m sitting on the floor of our attic apartment, trying to keep my sobbing quiet so our tenants don’t hear me asking my husband what we have done.
Anyone who knows me and my husband, Brian, even a little bit knows about our yearlong scavenger hunt for a house in Detroit, and saw the triumphant moment when we finally got the keys to our behemoth. They’ve since seen the work on Facebook and Instagram—if they haven’t grown bored and un-followed me—photos of painting and floor sanding and power-washing, gripes about the contractor. And they all wonder, as I do: What the hell am I doing with a house in Detroit when I live in Louisville, Kentucky?
And stay tuned as the real life story unfolds.