When is a House…a HOME?

Part 2 of Building Our House

After decades in the architectural field—over 40 years, to be exact—I’ve come to realize a truth that might sound surprising coming from someone who’s designed hundreds of residential buildings: I’ve spent my career designing houses, not necessarily homes.

Let me explain.

A house is a structure. It’s built on a foundation, framed by walls, topped with a roof. It’s composed of carefully drawn lines, measurements, codes, and materials. It meets safety requirements, zoning laws, and aesthetic expectations. It can be beautiful, functional, efficient, and even award-winning.

But that doesn’t make it a home.

A home is something far more personal—intangible, even. It’s not defined by square footage, ceiling height, or finishes. Instead, it’s created through the everyday moments that happen inside those walls. It’s the feeling you get when you walk through the front door after a long day. It’s the smell of a favorite meal being cooked, the sound of laughter echoing from another room, and the memories made over time.

Recently, my family and I closed on our own house—a project I had the privilege of designing. For months, we referred to it as “the house.” We talked about finishes, layouts, and logistics. We discussed deadlines and budgets, framing inspections and flooring deliveries. But now that we’ve moved in and started to make it our own, I can confidently say: We have a HOME.

And what a transformation it has been.

Our home is still settling—boxes are half unpacked, pictures not yet hung—but the energy has already shifted. The blueprint I once viewed through the lens of an architect is now seen through the eyes of a husband, a parent, a human being. I see the breakfast nook where we gather each morning. The entryway that welcomes our loved ones. The backyard where laughter and life are just beginning.

As a drafter, I’ll continue designing houses. It’s my profession, my craft, my passion. Some will be modest cottages; others, expansive estates. But regardless of size or style, what excites me most is the potential each house holds. Not just as a finished product, but as the blank canvas for someone else’s home.

Because in the end, it’s not granite countertops or vaulted ceilings that make a space meaningful. It’s the people who live there, the lives they lead, and the stories they create. That’s what transforms a house into a home.

So here’s to all the future homeowners out there—may the houses we build serve as the foundation for the memories you make and the life you live.

And to my own family: after all these years of designing for others, it’s a joy to finally say… we’re home.