Nesting

Two weeks ago we moved from our home of ten years to a new house. Actually, it's an old house but new to us.

On the day of the move, I found myself lying on the floor of Reed's empty bed room crying. Not great heaving sobs, but quiet, heavy tears of remembrance. I laid on the dusty carpet and remembered painting the ocean mural that surrounded me, the giant red squid at my head. I saw the echos of bunk beds holding two chatty brothers night after night after night. I remembered middle-of-the-night calls, "Mom...can you come lay down with me?" All beautiful memories, all lived within these walls.

In this house, I rocked a baby, nursed a baby, and grew a baby into a boy. In this house, I loved a boy, snuggled a boy, and saw him turn into a teen. In this house, I expected a baby, prepared for a baby, and lost a baby. In this house, I loved with a whole heart, laughed with abandon, and cried with no shame.

It was a good house. And I am grateful.

Now, I'm nesting. Displaying photographs. Hanging art. Shelving books. All of those things that make a house a home for me. The creaks of this house are different. The nighttime shadows a little creepy. The scent of the rooms unfamiliar. And my spirit tells me, "Give it time..."

Sit in your favorite chair and enjoy the new view...

Snuggle beside Reed in his new bedroom...

Listen to the boys practicing their piano...

Watch the cat exploring every nook and cranny...

Take the dog out to run in the big backyard...

In time, these things will become routine, and the shadows will seem friendly and the smells will be intoxicating and the creaks will be endearing. Give it time...