It’s been one year this week since Cane, our kids, and I moved together into the house that’s become our home.
Time is always such a slippery thing. It feels as if the year has flown by—as if the time since then has moved so quickly—but when I think back to individual moments, they feel far away.
As I repeated often to myself when my children were toddlers, the days are long but the years are short.
I remember longing to feel settled, to feel all moved in, to feel done with the enormous task of moving our lives.
I should have known that the shirt Will wore on that long, hot moving day told the real truth about it all.
There is no place where we arrive, no single day in which we are all we are all settled in, we are all grown up, everything is OK forever.
There are only moments of it.
And then we move on to the next challenge, the next hurdle, the next new thing.
As I looked back through all the many photos we’ve taken in the past year (thank you, blogging and blog readers, for being the thing that compels me to chronicle our life), I can see that most of the moments (of both kind) were small ones.
This house did not become our home on the day one year ago that we moved our things into it—or even after the things were unpacked from their boxes.
And we did not become a family on the night we first slept under the same roof.
Looking back, I cannot tell you exactly when the house truly became home…
…or when we began to feel like more than roommates.
Somehow, though, in the alchemy of the everyday, both things happened in the past year.
It was not an easy year.
We’ve gotten past expecting it to be easy.
We aren’t the Bradys.
And the home we moved into needed as much time, effort, and love as our family.
There’s still much we want to improve, but when we look back over the bridge of days that held us from last August to this one, we’re amazed at how far we’ve come.
We’re so grateful for all we’ve been given, and we look forward to seeing what blooms in the coming year.
We hope you do, too.