Thursday, March 22, 2012
Dinner at the house
I thought we'd get out to the house at some point yesterday, but after a morning filled with errands and doctor appointments, lunch out with a friend, and a long nap by one, Mr. Hutton, it didn't look promising. By the time I called Collin, he and his dad were already packing up for the day. Despite an offer to go to the park, this did not set well with my construction-loving boy.
I don't want to go to the park! I want to go to the job site!
A couple more calls between Collin and I and we devised a plan, we'd pick up Subway and have dinner at the house.
I can't say Keaton was the only one who wanted to get out there. With this beautiful weather and the knowledge that our windows were delivered yesterday, I was pretty antsy as well.
There is a lawn chair that sits in the future kitchen, right by the patio door, it's the "break chair" - I pulled it over and back just a little ways so I could look out into the yard. While yesterday afternoon was on the hot side, the evening was simply perfect. As I sat there listening to nothing but the birds chirp and feeling the gentle breeze of the wind, all I could think was, Wow, it is so peaceful out here. You'd think I was in a new vacation spot, not in a place we've lived now for six years. It all felt so new. So fresh. So beautiful.
I voiced this to Collin and he kinda smiled. "This is what we had." He said.
He didn't need to elaborate more than that, I knew exactly what he meant. In the days following the fire I remember telling people, I feel so guilty, all I did was bitch about that house. The kitchen/dining floors were never clean enough, the carpeting and couches were always covered in dog hair, there was always laundry to be done and dishes to be put away. It was never in good enough shape for me. I never stopped doing to just sit and enjoy, to just soak it all in.
And then it was gone. And I so desperately wanted to take back all that complaining, take back that looking for perfection and simply enjoy those rooms, enjoy that space, enjoy our lives.
This is what we had.
It was always here. Peace. Joy. Beauty. It might have been under crumbs or dog hair, but it was here. And sitting there last night I vowed that from now on our lives will be different. Sure, there will still be floors to clean and laundry that needs folding. That stuff won't go away. But I don't need to focus on it. I don't need to constantly be looking for perfection. Instead I'm going to soak up all that is around us. The birds, the wind, the sun on the patio. Dog hair, dirt, crumbs and all, I'm going to enjoy this house, enjoy these rooms, enjoy this life.