|Zinadine's there - he's running ahead, of course...|
|I don't recognise this house; it looks like grown-ups live here.....|
We spent the end of the summer of 2016 house-sitting for various friends and family, and then in September moved into our furnished rental in Hamilton, Ontario. We brought a few boxes (and our clothes!) into the house from our old possessions, but mostly made due without.
|There should always be flowers on moving day....|
And instead, in June of 2017, for many different reasons, we found a house in Hamilton....for now ;-)
|It has roses!|
And added some new fluffy additions to the family we did:
|Say hi to angora bunnies Sherlock River Brutus Pedestrian Floofy III and Foofy.|
|Say hi to Streamer. Her buddy Lamborgh is hiding.|
As I was sliding books onto shelves, manouvering past sleeve catching cardboard box-flaps and welcoming each book as if it were new, a welcome emotion washed over me. The emotion of home. I felt the same way as I put my fabric out. Grounded, centred, content in a deep way. This place is good. It will do.
|Hello old friends....|
What is also true (as a wise friend gently reminded me recently) is that over the past year and a quarter, a significant portion of my energy and attention had been gobbled up by settling into our temporary home and the never-ending search for a more permanent home. And the inescapable ruminating over what impact these changes were having on the kids. I tried to stay balanced and incorporate our usual fun and exploration (lowering expectations always helps ;-) and though I grew in some ways, especially in connecting with friends old and new, there were things that got neglected, most critically my creative self and some of my other personal goals.
|I have made to time to make some things....|
For a couple of days this past week I had been down, and stuggling to feel the worth of my work, in that kind of existential, what-am-I-even-doing kind of way. Even though I'm literally sitting as I type in the middle of one of the results of my hard work, as a parent my first instinct is to think that finding a home and making it a good one really is the least I can do*, so the worth seems nebulous and not concrete. (*With the understanding that in this world it is not always easy to do and that we are incredibly fortunate to be able to do so. Just sayin')
But then I had the inclination to go back over photos, over this blog, and I was reminded of why I used to write here and why I might want to continue. "Oh," I thought. "That's right, I do things!" Good things, concrete things; makings and get-togethers and workshops and connections in which I find worth.
I like this space as a witness to our daily lives. A place where I can process what happens, share it with people I love (hi all!), and maybe even with people I don't know yet.
I'm willing to see what happens here. Again.