Late Sunday night I drove back to our old house to do a little cleaning. It had been a busy couple of days and I needed some time to myself. The house quiet inside, like it was finally resting from housing a baby, two rambuncious children and two parents who ocassionally yelled at said rambuncious children. Poor house. I went from room to room, wiping baseboards and walls. Dusting blinds. Vacuuming. Remembering.
This was the room where I rocked my first baby. It took me six months to be able to put him in his own room in his own bed, away from me. We covered the windows with heavy blankets after he was born so we wouldn’t have to wake up with the sun. We cried and held each other in this room, scared that we would lose him. The blankets came off. He came home.
This is the floor that we put him on when he got to come home from the hospital, 30 days after he was born. He looked so small and tiny in this great big room. We marveled at his size and couldn’t imagine a time where we would be more content and happy.
This is where Greg was sitting when I told him we were having #2. We both laughed and hugged and laughed some more.
This is where I puked my guts out.
This is where we watched the boys play together. They became best friends here.
This is where my sister lived. She had been gone for a while and I had missed her. This is where we found each other again.
Mason would fall asleep next to this door at night. When I would go to check on him, little fingers would be sticking out from underneath it. I wouldn’t be able to open the door because his body would be pressed against it. Silly kid.
This is where we hosted lots of family dinners. We always had too much food. We ate until we were stuffed, then ate some more. We didn’t save room for dessert, but we packed it in anyway. I have about 26 pie tins from Marie Callendar’s to prove it.
This is where I kept my Scentsy. Each scent is a memory for me. People, places, emotions.
My running shoes were lined up here. Four pairs of the exact same brand and style, different colors. I miss running and using my body.
This is where we discussed Greg changing jobs. He did and I’ve never seen him happier about going to work.
This is where Aidan hung his artwork. And here and here and here. This is where Mason ignored the whole “draw only on paper” thing and went all Picasso on the wall.
This is where I struggled with my faith. Why do I have to be one who questions every little thing?
This is where I found my faith again.
This porch is where I sat waiting for the bus to drop off my little preschooler Mason. He always, always had a smile on his face.
This is where I was sitting when he said his first real full sentence to me. I cried.
This is where they threw their backpacks when they got home from school. I’m not sure they ever put them where they belonged without me asking first. Punks.
This is where Greg showed the boys Nintendo. This is where I watched hesitantly, as they fell in love with All Things Mario.
This is where we had that Family Night that went on and on and on. The one where Aidan drew a picture of the earth with arms folded in prayer. ”If the whole world prayed, Heavenly Father would still hear us all”.
This is where we talked about having a third. And talked and talked and talked.
This is where Greg would sang to our babies and made me fall in love with him all over again.
I rocked my baby Jillian right next to this window. Waking up at night doesn’t seem so bad when you spend it nursing your little baby girl, looking out at the stillness and quiet of the street at 3 am. Contentment.