My recent days have had a fragmentary quality. Unconnected moments following one after the other.
Bits of this and bits of that.
Some snow, some sun. Some laundry, dishes, floors. Starting and stopping blog posts. Encouraging mud play, cleaning up mud play, then prohibiting mud play. Toys taken out, toys cleaned up. Packing a box, then forgetting to rearrange the now uncluttered space. Take calls, make calls. Checking e-mail for a message from the realtor. Checking online for any houses we might not have noticed before.
Ah yes, that most achingly bittersweet
decision we've been grappling with for a long, long time is one of buying a new house and moving to a new community. We've thought and daydreamed about a possible move for over a year, driving neighborhoods, looking at schools, getting to know places. So this is not a spur of the moment decision. However, it has been theoretical.
Until last week, when we thought there might actually be a house for us. We put our financial ducks in a row, made some important decisions about what to do with our current house, and spent some time in the house and on the property.
The house wasn't for us.
Even though the nervous feeling that began last week stopped when we decided that this wasn't our house, a sort of indistinguishable anticipation has begun. A start and stop of anxiety that can only come with wondering. Wondering what if, and perhaps, and when, and certainly before school begins in the fall...
So the start and stop has manifested itself in my daily doings as well. I start something at the computer then move to laundry, then check my phone, then notice the baby is growing a new tooth and learning to climb
down the stairs.
I'm trying to remind myself that these bits, as unconnected as they seem, are really the collective moments of life as I know it right now.
And it's ok. And it's good. And simply keep the realtor fed with homemade bread
(and on speed dial to be certain.)