Ode to what once was

Summer here is a tyrant. I've never much cared for it, so it surprises my how much intense nostalgia the heat and sun have created in my heart lately. 

I drive past the house I grew up in, but I can never go inside because another family lives there now. I'm in my hometown but feel like a nomad, because that world doesn't exist any more. 

You see, It's been four years since my parents sold that house, and two years since they have been divorced. 

I've debated writing about it so many times, but never wanted to sound maudlin, or to make my family's pain and guilt worse than it already is. When two people split up after nearly thirty years of a great marriage, only they can say what went wrong. 

All I know is that it has created a very bizarre, suspended reality for me. One where my childhood is completely disassociated with the present time, almost as if it still exists somewhere. It wasn't till after I left for college that things changed, so I barely witnessed anything to contradict what I perceived to be my family life. They've tried to make the best of it, and what else can you do?

Lately, though, I have been having these dreams where I am back in the old house. In my mind's eye I can still walk through each room and see things exactly as they were. The extent to which the details are seared in my memory is quite shocking to me. Do the new kids sit on the stone wall in the backyard and crack pecans with their teeth? Do they stare out the window and watch the lizards bask on the flowers my mom planted? 

If I had all the money in the world, I would buy that house just so I could turn that key one more time. 

Perhaps this is a useless exercise. All I know is that these emotions surrounding my childhood home are some of the most intense I am capable of feeling. These things never leave you. 

Is it vain to make a promise that I will never do this to my children? It is so easy to get disillusioned. We the young, with years and years of life ahead of us, brazenly making vows that are being broken by so many we love and look up to, even as we utter them. People so far ahead of you giving up, just as you're starting the race. Clay feet, everywhere. 

This is about a house, and about more than a house. As I mourn the loss of that world, I know in my heart that this is the way of it, one way or another. How lucky are those few whose ancestral homes remain an open harbor to them all of their life? For the many, what can we do to keep home in our hearts always? 

Five weeks in

The newest nugget has survived five whole weeks of being in the world, and I forget he's STILL supposed to have one more week to cook. Any baby that can withstand Ellis' smothering kisses and his repeated efforts to forcefully "share" crackers has got to be a fighter.

Seeing Cal has made something click that began clicking a long time ago but maybe never fully made it. I'm seeing swirls of the truths of what makes life go and what people really long to get out of it. I'm afraid I'm going to get addicted to new babies because of it! (Just kidding, not really kidding, what?)

I'm trying to approach this new life phase in a cerebral way. If its going to be my job, I want to have a plan of attack. From everything you hear, there are things that seem to need keeping in order to prevent brain atrophy, boredom, loss of personality etc. The things that make us scared. Any suggestions for conquering these beasts are welcome.

One of my strategies, among others, is self-improvement.

Here's a nerdy PSA to any other lovers of the classics who happen to be living on a very tight budget-- I recently discovered the app called Audiobooks, which is basically a free way to listen to tons of old books. It's become a major tool in my self-improvement/SAHM toolbox, and I'm so excited I just have to share!

This week I have been listening to Howard's End by E.M Forster, and it may have finally taken the elusive spot as my favorite book, which is a big deal to me. This is probably the third time I've read (or listened) to it, and it still speaks to me in many ways. I love that. Not to mention there is a movie adaptation with Emma Thompson and directed by James Ivory. Lovers of period pieces rejoice! Nuff said.

With that I'll leave it for today and resume my snuggles. Small victories.

Madison

(Gratuitous snuggle photo, who can resist?)

An announcement

This is a little late, but my head has just now stopped reeling.

Within the last week, Logan took a job, we packed, and we moved our family (yes, and the two week old baby) from Waco to Coppell.

There are so many things in that statement that make me say, what?

But the long and short of it is that Logan got a great job that he loves in Dallas, so we decided to take the plunge and move. We are renting a house, and I am going to stay home with the babies for a while.

If hard is good, I know that this will be a good thing for us. Because if I'm honest, lots of this is going to be hard. Leaving our community, going from working at a job I love to just being a mom to my babies, fully saying goodbye to the life of school, and moving back to my hometown (which, P.S., is somethingI never dreamed of). It's a lot to ponder. Enough for multiple blog posts probably, but that's for another day.

It's hard to end this little message. It actually physically pains me to think that the door is closing on this part of my life, but I'm so grateful that I got to experience this little wonderful pocket of the world for the last seven years. To all the people who have been our community, to UBC, to my admissions family, thanks. I never dreamed when I got to Waco as an 18 year old that I would leave it bringing with me so much more than I came with. (Although, the old Corolla that brought me there is still up and kicking).

Here's to some new adventures.