Sarah found me in the closet again last night. Not doing anything weird. Just checking on my node.

"This is getting ridiculous," she said. "It's 11 PM and you're talking to a computer in our bedroom closet."

She's not wrong. Our Brooklyn apartment is 900 square feet on a good day. Every inch matters. And I've got a little Raspberry Pi humming away next to her winter coats, validating blocks like it's the most important job in the world.

"It's not just a computer," I tried to explain. "It's my piece of the network."

She rolled her eyes. The same eye roll I get when I explain why we can't just use Venmo for everything.

The thing is, I get why she thinks it's crazy. Most people do. You're running this little box that uses electricity, takes up space, and doesn't seem to DO anything obvious. It's not mining. It's not making money. It just... exists.

But here's what I realized after six months of running my node: it changed how I think about everything.

Before, Bitcoin was this thing I bought on an app. Numbers on a screen. I'd check the price, feel good or bad, maybe buy more. That was it.

Now? I'm part of it. My node has validated thousands of transactions. It's helped new users download the blockchain. It's been a small but real part of keeping Bitcoin decentralized.

My 8-year-old daughter Mia gets it better than Sarah does. She calls it "Dad's money computer." Last week she asked if she could have her own node.

"Can mine be pink?" she said.

I almost cried.

The electricity bill is maybe $10 a month. The space it takes up is smaller than Sarah's shoe collection. But the feeling of actually participating instead of just spectating? That's worth way more than the minor inconvenience.

Sarah still thinks I'm nuts. She caught me checking the mempool at breakfast yesterday and just shook her head.

"Normal people read the news in the morning," she said.

"This IS the news," I told her. "Every block is breaking news."

She laughed despite herself. That's progress.

Look, I'm not trying to orange-pill my wife. That's not my job. But I am trying to show my kids what it looks like to actually care about something. To participate instead of just consume.

Jake, my 11-year-old, asked me last week why I spend so much time "on that Bitcoin stuff."

I told him: "Because I want to understand the money we use. And I want you to understand it too."

He nodded. He gets it, even if he doesn't get it yet.

The node stays in the closet. Sarah can roll her eyes all she wants. I'm not just hodling anymore. I'm helping build the thing I believe in.

Even if it means less room for winter coats.