Friday
Mar162012
at home
Stepping out into the early dark last night to pick a pair of bay leaves, I stood for a while looking up at Jupiter and Venus shining particularly brightly in the clear, cold night. Bats flickered under the willow. Walking back into the warmth of the kitchen, I felt a surge of contentment and sense of place that surprised me. We've lived here for nearly five years: longer than I've ever lived in a house, or a place. Being settled doesn't really settle me. Or so I thought. This odd little house that contains most of Joel's memories until now, with the garden that frustrates and delights in turn, has become a home that will be hard to leave.
Reader Comments (7)
a beautiful night.
(And you've captured so much of your time there -- the specific places and things you did, but also the light, fleeting moments...tone. You have something of a record of this time, in words and pictures.)
Monica, I agree that the lure of new memories is always a positive. Tracy, same here for the kitchen being at the heart. Denise, thank you. That means a lot. Anna, that's part of why I jot things here. Katrina, I agree. It's that weaving of memories of your child's life into the fabric of a place that changes feelings towards a home. And hello!