We are welcoming our third weekend in our recently purchased home and every day I fall more and more in love. Sigh. Not the teenage angst ridden emotional roller coaster state of love but those favorite faded, loose fitting, almost hole-in-the-knee and cannot throw out weekend jeans kind of love. Sigh. I cannot wait for all my friends and family to meet him kind of love. Sigh. The kind of staying up late imagining what we are going to look like in a few years kind of love. Sigh. The "I Do" kind of love. Sigh. I. Am. So. Gone.
David and I have shared EIGHT residences in our fifteen years of marriage. I laugh/shudder at the thought and jokingly/seriously say to my handsomely gray-haired husband, "This is it!". Because coincidentally, moving has always coincided with a job change. And I sort of smile because this is the same phrase I uttered after meeting David. I just knew.
My husband and eldest child are enjoying a Daddy/Daughter outing at Camp Seafarer this weekend. I have received hilarious girlfriend pictures with a backdrop of smooth water and tall pine trees followed by update texts of an ice cream social and Friday night dance craze. And one phone call that included so many activity updates, I was happily exhausted. Meanwhile, I am home with our son who was diagnosed with strep this morning. Sure, this health hiccup changed my Mommy/Son plans for the weekend. Instead of getting to indulge with my sweet boy, I am getting to know our house a bit more and I have to admit, I skinned my knees a bit when I fell head over heels.
When we first purchased our house, I was giddy to have room again. And a backyard. And flowers in the yard. And a garage. And we could let Mason, our aging Jack Russell, out the back door and not on a leash,huffing up and down three flights of stairs...in the rain, or three feet of snow when we retell this scenario to our children. We had spent the past four months in an apartment on, yup, you guessed it...the third floor. But now, we were in our very own home with a front porch and a landscaped yard. Our backyard is plush with pine straw, pine cones and ivy. Proud pine trees guard us and protect us. We have a zip line, a playhouse and a playground. We have squirrels and cardinals and robins and um, a hawk so huge I scooped up Mason and bolted inside. We have neighbors who bake amazing pumpkin chocolate chip muffins and tutor me on the garden I always wanted but have no earthly idea how to tend.
Last night I wandered from room to room, stopping and sitting. Sighing. Thankful. Joyful. The journey was SO worth the wait. Thank you, Lord. I saw this house a year ago and now we call this funky green house with brown shutters on a hill....home. You were listening to me all along (note to self for blog entry down the road). Sometimes love is fickle. Sometimes love is not love but a misguided emotion of something you thought you wanted. And then sometimes, if you are truly blessed, love is enduring, comfortable, weathering and still unexpectedly, takes your breath away. We, at this moment, are a joyful family in a joyful house in a joyful life. Sigh. Isn't it dreamy?
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