Stabb and I have been working really hard on the house, getting it ready to list. I can't describe how much work this has been, getting everything painted, cleaned, de-cluttered, and curb-appealed. I keep thinking how nice it all looks for someone else.
It's bittersweet. I've lived here 18 years. I raised my children here. Memories everywhere, most of them good...some, not so much. My neighbor is my dear friend. She even works with me at the Center. I'm leaving it all and moving to something new and unknown. that's not my strong suit. I've never been the kind to fly away with the wind.
I put down roots...deep roots. I watched them break ground for this new dream house of mine in 1994. How can that be 18 years? How? A new baby, story time, tears, proms, holidays, graduations, college, divorce, new love and marriage. All in this home. My children's hand and footprints are pressed into the driveway here. Sometimes, it's all too much.
And yet, with my children grown and a strong love at my side, I feel that I might just be able to welcome the new adventure ahead. We are dreaming new dreams, together. New gardens and stories, new footpaths holidays, and perhaps even grandchildren one day.
We have 5 acres out in the country, and I'm pining for a tree house and a farmhouse table. Stabb is a wonderful carpenter and he'll build these things for me to run my fingers across. I'm sentimental and have a deep need to wear my fingerprints into everything I love.
I'll be an old girl, climbing into my treehouse to be a little closer to the whispering canopy. When I'm surveying all from a new vantage point in my life, I hope my old finger-worn pencil will fill the pages I have not yet met with silky satisfied words to be tied with yesterdays ribbons, all beautiful and appreciated because, no matter what, they have been mine.
Onwards and upwards to new journeys. New families still enjoy old handprints- I know I personally wouldn't want a home that didn't have a 'story'.
Chapter of the book of life is all. You don't leave your history, just build on it like you said.
*hugs to you both*
Love to you both, miss reading about your days/ life.
It is bittersweet isn't it? There is fullness to life and an ache when you're homesick for the past.
Daub on some mud camo and stalk your forest for me. I know how much beauty you'll find.
That sounds absolutely beautiful.
I want to hear about that farmhouse table, and those long autumn dinners as the sun goes down in the back yard. How is everything?
I'm delighted... for You.
There are small things in life that can be more satisfying than big far-off goals. Today I walked through my garden with a basket and a pair of scissors, gently snipping stems. I dug in the lovely raised bed my darling Stabb built for me. I filled my basket with onions, tomatoes, potatoes, jalapeños, bell peppers, sprigs of cilantro, strawberries, cucumber, and basil.