Wednesday, May 14, 2014
I am sitting in my bedroom, all by myself. It's quiet, except for the cows that are "mooing" and the goat that is telling me all kinds of stories. The birds are quite pleased with their stories also. My boys are helping Uncle Brandon for a few hours tonight and my Brooklyn went home to her mommy a few hours ago. My husband went to play softball. My husband. Oh, how for the first time in my entire life I love saying, "My husband." I love that man. With every ounce of my being, I love that man. He, and the boys, have worked their bums off the last couple of days. Oh, the lifting and the hauling, the driving, and more driving, the laughter and the frustrations. They have worked so hard. I have also worked hard, trying to make our house a home. It's our home now. For two years. Tonight, as my husband and I drove down the street, he asked me if I was happy in our new home. I told him that I was. I do have a little bit of anxiety because I don't know my way around, or how to get to where I need to go. He assured me that I will learn quickly. I asked him if he was happy. He said yes, except that we have to find another home in two years. I agree. We could stay here forever. We agreed that this will be our new home, West Point, or somewhere very, very close to West Point. It is God's country, I tell you. I look out my bedroom window or my kitchen window and I see country. I see animals. I see mountains and land that goes on forever, and I feel safe and whole. This week has been constructive chaos so far. Tomorrow, my husband goes back to work. The boys and I will continue to unpack and settle in. I will lay in my bed, the one I now share with my husband. I will fold his clothes neatly in his drawers. I will pack him a lunch. I will do some laundry. I will take out more garbage, and all the while I will be eternally grateful for this life of mine.