You are my first. Well, technically I guess that's not true. I've lived in many before you, a few that I even thought I loved, but as with any true, first love, I later came to realize that the ones that came before you were cheap imitations of the real thing.
Those other houses were important and necessary. They taught me what I did and didn't want. They hold special memories and taught me how to recognize true love when I finally found it. Or when you finally found me, for I'm sure it was not an accident that we ended up together, but serendipity. You, dear home, with your sloping floors, bathrooms and kitchen in need of remodeling, wonky woodwork, small rooms, lack of storage, cozy nooks and charming front porch are the one I will never forget.
You are the one who taught me who I really am. The one I hope to spend all of my forevers with. The one who will live in my heart forever as the houses that came before you fade into blurry memories.
You are my one, true home.