Mumford & Sons (I'm digging some Mumford & Sons lately. Huge crush. Huge.)
This week has been a crazy one of sorts. The type that reminds you how life is best enjoyed when navigated - like balancing on a bike; not something laid out in tracks that you are secured to for the long haul. In the unfolding of it all, the absurd and the magical moments present themselves and nothing feels more satiating.
Change is physically in the air. We spent the weekend watching fall leaves shed their color and loosen their grip. For the first time ever, we both marveled at the sight of the wind sweeping millions of leaves upward in the air like some stunning flurry of Fall in rewind as a hawk hung above it all.
We too are embracing change these days. We placed a long shot "Hail Mary" backup offer on a house we found. It was a place we walked in to and knew instantly we had made a mistake not finding it sooner. Funny how you can walk in to someone else's space and feel like it is yours. Last Thursday night we found out the sky opened up and we were under contract. Our house promptly went on the market Saturday and is now under contract too; apparently a few people felt the same kinship to our home.
I keep thinking about hermit crabs and how they switch shells every so often. I feel we too are hefting off our armor and walking naked towards something new we will come to know intimately.
I've been thinking about how how our homes define us: our neighborhoods, our entryways, the paint colors we choose, and the art we hang on our walls. Friends come in and share the food we eat, listen to the music we play, and smell our smell. We know where the floors creak and how to open some special drawer or window. The fine nuances of the space become silent details in our story of home.
In a little more than a month, I won't see the view from miss M's bedroom window anymore - reminding me of the silence at 3 am when I was lucky enough to breastfeed my little nugget. Soon I won't be able to enjoy the angles of our stairs. The texture of our brick walls will become a fond memory. The perfectly framed view of our copper Rooster weather vane through our kitchen window from the sidewalk in front of our house won't exist as art anymore (as we made sure to write it in as an exclusion to the house purchase). These are all moments we have built and have come to know over the course of our every day. They will be boxed up in our memories. Miss m might possibly not even remember this place very well at all.
We wholeheartedly look forward to something new: fresh paint and wood floors; a backyard with a nice sized garden and the promise of a basketball hoop hanging above our 2 car garage; new neighbors/new friends we have yet to meet; and of course, plenty of work to make our new shell our own.
In this shift that has occurred over the past week, I too reconnected with a piece of me that has been dormant for quite some time though I have tried to rouse it mentally these past few years. Life is best served when you believe in what you believe and the power of positive thinking (if you go with your gut so to speak). It's about putting things in to play and trusting that things will all work out, or that even if they don't work out, it all works out. It's an intrinsic belief I had unknowingly for quite sometime and I've missed it immeasurably. I'm so excited to move forward and nothing feels better.