And so began the era of flat-pack furniture.
If you know, you know. The endless cardboard boxes, the instructions that seem to be written in riddles, the missing screws that definitely werenโt in the packetโฆ and the infamous Allen key that somehow becomes your new best friend.
After building our first three pieces by hand (with lots of trial and error), I bought myself an electric screwdriver. Best investment Iโve made. Because when your husbandโs not the โtools and DIYโ type, you learn quickly that someone has to get the job done, and that someone was me. ๐
Weโve since built beds, desks, drawers, shelves, and countless side tables. Each time, Iโve laughed, Iโve cried, and Iโve said, โNever again.โ (Only to do it again next week.)
But somewhere between all the tightening, hammering, and creative languageโฆ I realized something deeper.
– Weโre not just building furniture.
– Weโre building a life.
– Weโre building a new home.
– Weโre building new family routines.
– Weโre building new traditions, friendships, businesses, communities.
Each flat-pack challenge has become a small metaphor for this entire journey- no shortcuts, no guarantees, and a whole lot of effort. But with enough perseverance (and power tools), it all starts to come together.
It may not be โwhite glove delivery,โ but itโs 100% ours, built with love, resilience, and determination.
To anyone else rebuilding a life from scratch, whether in a new country or a new seasonโฆ keep going. Itโs not always pretty, and it rarely goes exactly to plan, but thereโs something deeply meaningful in building it piece by piece.
Even when the last screw doesnโt fit.