After a busy two days giving this house a thorough top to bottom scrubbing, I went and sat on the porch and put my feet up. We aren’t leaving right this second but I can feel the end hovering. The house and I had a moment. It was a little silly but it came recommended by my new “friend” Marie Kondo in her delightful book about tidying up.
House, the time is coming for us to let you go. Thank you for being a shelter for our family and my heart. Thank you.
Claire is talking more every day. Saying “I uv oo’s” and “dank oo’s” and “‘nacks.” Lately everything that doesn’t have its own label is a “bubble” or “purple” and a little pointer finger helps me decipher the rest. But sometimes I have to crouch down to her level wondering, “What do you see that I can’t?” A lizard? A toy stuck under a chair?
I don’t think I quite figured her out this afternoon but a hearty, “Let’s go slide!” seemed to be a nice substitute. The girls didn’t seem to need me much apart from being the cheering section, “Wheeee! Woo Hoo!”
Abigail and I ended up on the hammock while Claire dug in the dirt. “Do I have to leave my treehouse here?” I took a deep breath, “Yes.” She took a deep breath. We leaned back letting the hammock cradle us as I pushed with one foot.
“Wheeeeee!” I replied giving a mighty push.
This place was hard for me. For the girls it just felt like home. I like thinking about that. How they were just so content with each day as it came. I worked very hard on finding that contentment here, fighting with a place that just didn’t feel right to me. It wasn’t until I unrolled my old, blue yoga mat shortly after having Claire that I started healing. Setting an intention each time I practiced: today, this, love. Breathing in, breathing out. Pressing my hands and feet into the ground made me acutely aware of where I was. Physically, I got stronger. I became more flexible. Slowly, I let go and gave myself permission to be free of the burden of the future. But what I really gained was peace and an open heart and the realization that the contentment I longed for was not in Lexington, but inside myself.
I am a dreamer. I get wistful about the past. I get anxious about the future. I am sensitive. I am human. But now I know where to go, I know what I need to bring me back to this beautiful moment I’m living. For me, I find it in mountain pose or warrior, a downward facing dog, a playful headstand, a deep breath.
Later as Ryan was grilling I laid down on my back, wondering what things looked like from a toddler’s perspective. Abigail said, “I wish we could live on a cloud. Then we’d always be moving.”
That’s what the world looks like to a child. It is vast and wide. It is moving and you are going with it. It is a cloud that you take a ride on. The sky is blue. The sky is gray. The sky is dark. It is light. It is all around you. Breathe it in. Go.