04 September 2014

15 august.
we bought a new house.  this old one, which we've loved and grown in and made our own--it has been good to us in so many ways.  and in so many ways, it was not quite right for what we will, do, need and want as our family grows. 

we planned for a slow transition--still living in our sweet little green house as we make changes to the white house just around the corner.  so close I rolled the push mower over there the other weekend, clackity clacking up the block as the new neighbor laughed over her fence.  so close we walked past it on dog walks every day for years without taking too much notice.  strange and exciting to think we'll be living there now.  I have always been an ease-into-the-pool type, toes first, feeling the water slide up my calves like ice cold rubber bands.  this is a little like that, emotionally; we're savoring the gradual slide into the inevitable plunge (and saddling ourselves with double the yardwork in the meantime).

and so I'm waiting here now for the boys to come home from their fourth? fifth? day of school, counting up what's been done and what needs doing.  moving with a twenty month old is a fool's errand, but imogen is charming enough to make even that seem palatable.  I've felt a bit adrift this year--personally, creatively--so if nothing else I think the move is focusing some of that energy. 

there are a million other things I could write here--about the deliciousness of some mostly-normal months for Imogen, about the rocky ground and smooth with the boys these days, about my love affairs with instagram and pinterest, about visiting family and missing them after, about art I've seen and books I've read, about my hesitance writing about any of the good and privileged in my life in the summer of Ferguson and ebola and Iraq. 

mostly I think it's worthwhile to pay attention.  to notice.  boxes be damned, I'm hoping to get back into that habit this fall.

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