|How our house looked right before our friends would arrive for a night-time get together|
Sometimes I catch myself thinking about our home in Texas.
I picture myself in the house, remembering the way I did things there, remembering little things,
like opening the blinds in Nicholas's room first thing in the morning so he could look down at the neighbor's dogs in her backyard,
sweeping the kitchen and pushing the broom way underneath the island,
sitting on the front porch after walking to the mailbox,
chasing Nicholas up the stairs to give him a bath and put him to bed, and then me and Kent sprawling on the couch to watch a show.
And I especially remember my winter daily walks to the park, the way the green clover grew around the sidewalks, how the dogs barked as we passed the first house on the corner, how I would dash across the street, how Nicholas would wiggle out of the stroller when he saw his friends waiting there.
It seems like, so far, the longer we are in Utah, the more intense my feelings get.
I'm more happy about being here, more sure that this is where we are supposed to be.
And also more sad about what we've left, more lonesome for our life there.
I am so, so glad when my brother comes over for dinner and spends two hours playing with Nicholas and holding Ellie,
when we make the short drive to my parents' house to stay the weekend,
when my dad stops by on commute south for work just to say hi and deliver some fresh-made cookies,
when I see the snow-topped mountains against the clear blue January sky,
when we talk about what our new house is going to be like,
and especially every day when Kent comes home from work--unstressed, happy, and excited about what he's doing there.
Yes, moving was a good thing for our family.
But it's still hard sometimes, even though it's been a few months.
I catch myself in rare quiet moments (quiet doesn't happen much with two kids) just thinking about the friends we left behind, the life we left there,
and my heart aches.
I was cleaning up my contacts list on my phone yesterday. That was rough, thinking about all the people I used to interact with, missing them all.
|Allison's parents live in Utah, so she came down to visit me when she was here for Christmas|
But I am grateful for what we had.
And for the good things we have here.
Life is good.