I wander through the kitchen, peering at my scribbled writing atop the boxes covering the countertops. Amidst the haphazard pile, I spy boxes marked "master bedroom", "basement", "shed". So much for order, I sigh. Scooping up a box, I navigate upstairs, avoiding a filing cabinet and a plastic bag stuffed with pillows. From my bedroom, I look down at the grass and the deck, wondering how long until I can enjoy that lovely sanctuary without too many should's and could's and would's hanging over me.
My two big kids are in their rooms, anxious to unpack treasures, many of which have been secreted away for nearly a year. Aaron pokes his head out his door and grins, "It made it!" He holds up the body of his Lego AT-AT. "I still have to put his legs back on, but it made the trip." Already Aaron has settled into his space, happily overturning boxes as he searches for joints and feet for his creation. As he turns back, I hear Norah hollering from downstairs.
"Mo-om!"
I look at her over the railing of the loft. She smiles at me and asks, "Can I organize my desk? I don't have all of my boxes yet, but I have some of them." I nod and she skips off to her room in the basement she has claimed, displaying her medals and trophies in prominent places and setting out her books in order of size.
I head to the kitchen, standing in the middle of the room and trying to envision the most sensible places for our pots, pans and dishes. What will be most used? What set up will be most efficient? How many times will I rearrange the cupboards until I get it right? Five boxes later, I head to the garage in search of a package labeled, "Mugs". I find it nestled between a box of books and a plastic bin of Christmas decorations.
Overwhelmed with the sheer scope of making this new house our home, I turn my back on the jumbled mess and head to the front yard, taking a deep breath and soaking up a few rays of sunshine. I explore the flower bed: Queen Anne's Lace, Columbine, Iris and...what's that? To the south of the house a vine climbs a trellis propped against the front porch. It was only green leaves and buds yesterday when we stopped by the new house, but now purple blooms have erupted, cascading into the plants below. Clematis.
With this little homecoming gift from God, I know that we, too, will bloom in this new house we call home.
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| A little snapshot of our homecoming gift. |
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| Image courtesy of Unsplash. |
― Rumi
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Five-hundred-ish words inspired by the picture of pink blooms and quote above. We've made huge strides toward unpacking and in the blink of an eye, it's like we've always been here.
