We’re at Starbucks and “Our House” starts to play.
Time stands still right now as Perze works on his laptop and the girls drink their fraps, playing games on the iPhones and teasing each other. Emma is face-timing her friend from her old school. I’m the only one that stops, or should I say, try to stop time, because it’s going way too fast. We just moved into our new house this month, and my view of things are so new. For example, every day, the girls strap on their blades and skate up and down our long driveway, without me having to watch their every move. They navigate their small radius around our house, in and out, making playtime decisions without me. They bring food outside to the deck and read books, contain themselves inside the peapod hammock, water the plants that seem to be grasping for life…all without asking me for permission on their every move. Because this is their house. They aren’t contained inside, and I love that they are all of age to enjoy this small step of freedom, without me right in front of them.
Our house is slowly becoming home. It’s slowly becoming us.
And slowly they are falling in love with it. And once when I will finally feel our sphere has grown bigger where we are, when things are the way they are supposed to finally be with our home, I know it will be the time they will start to flex their wings and leave…slowly.
There isn’t any rest with life. I can never find a way to make time stand still long enough…it’s such a weighty reminder that this world is not our house.