Here's to another year - whatever it might bring!
This week marks one year since we moved into this house. One year. We have made one trip around the sun in this house. We have lived in it through every season. Between the poison ivy (right after we moved in), the bamboo (over the course of the summer), my anxiety (triggered by the coming of winter), our neighbor's house fire (the week before Christmas), the ongoing Corona virus shutdowns (since mid March), and other issues, it has been one heck of a long, tiring, stressful year. Just one year - it's still hard for me to believe.
I've always had a good memory. Sometimes I pride myself on it, but other times, like right now, I know that it's way too good for my own sake. Sometimes I'm way too aware of dates, firsts, anniversaries, etc. Sometimes I think I would be happier if I could just let certain dates slip by without knowing what they mark in my life. The first anniversary of my dad's death sent me into a tailspin that was in some ways worse than when he actually died.
Looking back over the course of this year, it's hard to know how to feel. Have I loved living here? Have I hated it? Have I learned anything? Have I made good memories in this house? Yes. Do I regret and miss certain things? Yes. Does this house really feel like home/ours yet? I'm not sure. Does everyone feel as overwhelmed and useless as I do? I wish I knew. I am trying not to judge myself too harshly.
Sara asked me once to name good thing that's happened while we've lived here, and the only thing I could come up with was that Athena, Abram, and Josh moved back to this state last summer. (They now live about 45 minutes away, and Athena is expecting a baby girl in July!) Abram loves coming over to our house. He loves the cats' laser pointer, Sara's exercise bike, blowing bubbles in the yard, and everything. I am trying not to lose sight of that sweet boy and the joy that he finds in being here.
This week also makes seven years since we moved to this city/state. To recap, we lived for two years in the apartment, four years in the townhouse, and one year (so far) here. The first anniversary of moving into the townhouse was hard for me, too. But we wound up living there for four years. I look around me now, and I can't even imagine being here for that long.
I've always had a good memory. Sometimes I pride myself on it, but other times, like right now, I know that it's way too good for my own sake. Sometimes I'm way too aware of dates, firsts, anniversaries, etc. Sometimes I think I would be happier if I could just let certain dates slip by without knowing what they mark in my life. The first anniversary of my dad's death sent me into a tailspin that was in some ways worse than when he actually died.
Looking back over the course of this year, it's hard to know how to feel. Have I loved living here? Have I hated it? Have I learned anything? Have I made good memories in this house? Yes. Do I regret and miss certain things? Yes. Does this house really feel like home/ours yet? I'm not sure. Does everyone feel as overwhelmed and useless as I do? I wish I knew. I am trying not to judge myself too harshly.
Sara asked me once to name good thing that's happened while we've lived here, and the only thing I could come up with was that Athena, Abram, and Josh moved back to this state last summer. (They now live about 45 minutes away, and Athena is expecting a baby girl in July!) Abram loves coming over to our house. He loves the cats' laser pointer, Sara's exercise bike, blowing bubbles in the yard, and everything. I am trying not to lose sight of that sweet boy and the joy that he finds in being here.
This week also makes seven years since we moved to this city/state. To recap, we lived for two years in the apartment, four years in the townhouse, and one year (so far) here. The first anniversary of moving into the townhouse was hard for me, too. But we wound up living there for four years. I look around me now, and I can't even imagine being here for that long.