The mountains are covered with clouds and undoubtedly, snow. They are one of the things that makes living here majestic. Here in the valley it is sunny and I'm squinting with my glasses on, tired of contacts for one day at least. We are leaving this house in a week and a half, moving up to the East Mesa, to a brand new house. This causes me to dream, and to reflect. This house has chipping-off paint and missing pieces and a backyard full of stickers, and plumbing that is reliably unreliable. But it's pleasant too. The paint on the walls and cabinets is a reminder of hopeful work, ours and friends. Nico's room reminds me how much I want his childhood to be whimsical, no matter where we are. Our history in pictures covers the walls, the refrigerator. There are reminders everywhere-how I've learned to really work on marriage, not just let it happen to me; the kitchen where I really started to love cooking. The birthday parties I planned despite my reluctance to have people over. The luxury of having good friends for neighbors. Learning community. The early mornings heading off to clinicals, the late nights opening the door and smelling the woodstove and the feeling of coming home. Ricky transitioning from school to work, and now me. The place where we started dreaming about another baby.
I can already see myself romanticizing this season we've been in, the one we're moving forward from. I suppose that's inevitable. It was hard in some ways, but in others, it's what so many are looking for. We've been happy, and at peace. I'm so grateful for that.