We are finally moved in. The movers carried in our furniture yesterday and we carried out the last box not long after. Other than a few details on the main levels (and a basement man room project Brock is working on), the house is as finished as it can be (after some amazing teamwork getting to this point). I’m finished too. My body let me know in no uncertain terms last night that I have been pushing too hard for too long and that I needed to rest. Why do I always force this issue?
Even though I don’t know all of the light switches and I feel like I’m on mind-altering drugs while attempting to cook in an unfamiliar kitchen, this already feels like home. Brock and I welcomed our first sunrise here yesterday morning on the porch. Heaven.
I feel at home. At peace. Comfortable. Unguarded. I haven’t felt this way in a long time.
I can really unpack, both my stuff and my heart. I’m not going anywhere.
They say you can never go home again. I disagree. Home may change but the feeling can be recaptured. I lost my old home in the tsunami that tore away my marriage. Now, I have a new home and, in a few short weeks, a new marriage, both built deliberately and with extra doses of faith and trust. It wasn’t easy and it was scary as hell but, right now, it just feels good.
And I’m going to relax and enjoy it. Much like Tiger and kitty:)