I have this place I call my sanctuary.
My husband built it for me.
Not with his bare hands. For he is not a builder.
He is more of an architect.
Not the kind that draws, models or applies for building permits.
He is an architect of ideas.
He was the architect of having a different life.
His actual vocation is finance.
He spends his days with spreadsheets, presentations, and emails.
But he had the vision to get us out of a rat race that was causing too much physical and emotional stress.
He wanted to live somewhere more peaceful.
Somewhere with less pollution and traffic.
Somewhere with more nature and land.
He wanted us to have more life, and less work, in our quest for work/life balance.
He wanted me to have a refuge. A place to live that turned down the volume.
He wanted me to stop saying things like: I Hate Mondays…
and Sundays because they were ruined while preparing for Mondays.
He knew that I needed an exit strategy from my old job. My old life.
So, he became the architect of a new life.
One that allowed us to move to Hawaii.
One that allowed me to leave my high-pressure job for an opportunity to create a new career for myself.
One that allowed me to think for myself... and work for myself.
He knew that I needed an office.
He knew that I needed a door to shut out the noise.
He knew that I needed a window to look out... to daydream for inspiration.
He knew that I needed to look out at something beautiful.
There was no place for that in our new home.
We had plenty of space, but nothing private.
So he figured out a way to give me that office.
He figured out a way to turn a walk-in closet into an office.
By adding a window and a door, he made it feel bright and beautiful.
Now I have beauty right outside my window.
Now I have fresh air... rather than recycled air-conditioning.
I wanted my office to be uncluttered and minimalistic, so I have white walls and minimal furnishing.
He set up a system for me to play my classical music while I write.
For the first time in years, when I get up in the morning, I am excited to go to work.
My office is my sanctuary.
A place where I go, with my little dog in tow, turn on the music, look out the window... and I write.
A place where I no longer hate Mondays, because I love what I do… and where I do it.
My husband was the architect of my sanctuary.
It’s not just a physical place, but a state of mind too.
In honor of our fourteenth wedding anniversary this week, I am dedicating this post to my architect.
I am truly grateful.