This is a blog about an old house with a new life (and all the lives within it). There are plenty of stories to tell.
- this post is more about demolition than the last one on
- soil, by Irene Mathieu on
- wish list: appliances and fixtures on
- lucky thirteen: a love story and an attic bedroom on
- lucky thirteen: a love story and bright bathroom on
- what’s happening with your big renovation project? on
- kitchen zones (that have nothing to do with triangles) on
- the gift of noticing on
- revolutions* on
- 2020 – stay for the exhale on
Daily Archives: January 10, 2013
There are days when all I do is sit in front of a computer screen – all day long. That is not my favorite way to spend the day, but around lunchtime the monotony is broken up a bit. An email arrives in my inbox, and in it are the photos from F’s morning at school. Every day is different – there are long walks around the neighborhood, playgrounds to conquer, recipes to be made, objects to sort, great paintings to paint. Occasionally she looks at the camera and I have this moment where I’m connected to her as she plays and learns and grows. And I realize just how lucky I am that we have the schools and the friends and the teachers and this city to grow up in.
Oh how do I describe you in words on a page, words that are static and unmoving, when every ounce of you dances, even when still? You have beguiled us all. We navigate your impetuous waters with delight; even the flashes of temper and foot stomping stubbornness are enjoyable to watch, though we desperately try to contain our amusement within the corners of our mouths. You have connected the other three of us in ways that you cannot know and in ways that we cannot fully explain. We share looks and eyebrow raises together as we watch you run circles around us. We collapse into fits of laughter at your words and your mannerisms and the way you crook that little finger into the air and tilt your head to one side and tell us how it is. Because you know just how it is, at all times, despite the mercurial nature of your moods. The one constant is you, in all of your sweet and salty goodness. How much you are loved, how very much we cherish you, I hope that you know this. I know that those three-and-a-half year old cheeks are not to be mine forever and I thank you for your (sometimes) patience in letting me rest my own cheek against them. If I’m fortunate enough to live a long, long life – long enough for me to forget most everything I want to remember – I hope that I’m still left with the feeling of those cheeks and the absolute treasure that is that darling smile that forms them.
“Children are the living messages we send to a time that we will not see.” -John W. Whitehead
What a joy you will bring to those times ahead, what a gift you are to our family, right now.
Happy half birthday my sweet, sweet girl.
We celebrate our half birthdays as a family, around the table, with dinner and dessert. E made a small card and some signs as well, and wrapped up one of F’s very favorite things… chapstick!