We’ve gotten to the point where we can joke about it, how I never liked high school boys when I was in high school, how I always wanted to be married, how Mer and Der and Liv and Fitz have to be based a little bit on us…
But the truth is, getting to where we are was no laughing matter, and sometimes, living the dream doesn’t feel very fun. Thankfully, the rest of the truth is that the days we laugh until we cry and the days we fight until we laugh are equally important in our journey together.
We raised kids.
We’re raising kids.
We achieved dreams.
We watched dreams die.
We longed for peace.
We live in peace.
We started as best friends.
We became even better friends,
We hold on.
We don’t even think of letting go.
In a time of thankfulness, I consider the profound as well as the mundane, but he…oh, he, is the constant, the rhythm, the rock. To me, he is larger than life, the presence in every room, the quiet voice in my head, the one who gave me children when I longed for them, gives me faith when mine fails me, and cheers for my climb even as he steadies my ladder.
These days, we are more likely to experience a hurried moment surrounded by dirty dishes than a stolen moment in a romantic corner, but that does not change the star of my show, the dashing hero, the handsome love interest, the dear, dear husband.
Special moments from a special 7th birthday…
When I was waiting to have a baby and couldn’t (either because of circumstance or infertility), I loved hearing other people’s birth stories. I wanted to know all about the poignant, the painful, the gross, the unexpected, and the miraculous.
Even more, I love having a birth story. Miranda’s is a little more “exciting” than Kaity’s.. and the short of it is that seven years ago tonight, our little miracle girl turned completely over in my womb while we watched and didn’t know what we were watching), our first nurse didn’t realize her head wasn’t downward, and five hours after being admitted to the hospital, my first born came via c-section.
It’s not the birth story I wanted, but she is the baby I always wanted. And now she is a little girl growing – growing – growing much too fast, just like our love for her gets bigger every day.
It has beautifully colored houses of many shades…blues, greens, browns, red, orange, yellow…and then there is ours, which is… butter? cream? I don’t know. It’s plain, but that’s okay, because we can see all the others.
We have neighbors up and down the streets who say “hi,” who walk their dogs while smiling, who are nice to our girls, who give away bikes and herbs. But more, most importantly… we have neighbors who have become part of our lives.
Their kids play with our kids.
Their dogs play with our dogs.
They help with bus stop emergencies, couch delivery emergencies, pool pass emergencies, and homework.
They let us hold their babies!
They offer help when they see “we’ve” locked the keys in the van again.
They dawdle with us outside to talk in the backyard and in the front yard.
They smile politely when “we’re” letting our 5 year old “drive” home from the bus stop.
They come to our stuff and invite us to their stuff.
They know our names.
They let us inside.
The struggle of home and roots continues for me, because my perspective has shifted so much from moving and losing stability. But this “haven” in which we’ve lived since June 2012 feels homey and comfortable, looks beautiful, and has embraced us and our girls. So I will exhale, sitting in the rocking chair on my front porch, enjoy the rainbow and the waves, and settle in.