rockin' transition

We're rocking transition around here.  Rockin' hard.  We pack boxes and bags, purge and recycle.  Re-organize, re-configure, stand on stools and stepladders, scrub ceilings and deep beneath stairs.  Things, things, things -- the stuff that defines our lives.  It sits in canvas and cardboard, backpacks and suitcases.  Sits for years and years and years, still defining us. 

When we came here, we packed two cars.  Books and clothes, a few lamps perhaps?  A box of favorite mugs?  Journals and photographs.  A decade later, it's mainly the same.  Add furniture and all things baby, add cold weather goods and wedding presents.  But strip it back, and we are so the same.  Our love of words and travel.  Our passion for our friends, our family, each other, our children - it spills forth from all we do.  And we purge the rest, each bag of trash another triumph, each pile for the garage sale, another share of joy. 

I scrape the yellow ceilings and remember how we painted each and every last square inch of that little home, how gray and dilapidated she was when we first found her.  Us, so not DIY, so not crafty or country or learned like that, we made it work.  We painted, already.  We scraped and weeded and planted and sowed.  We took time.  Friends camped in the backyard, in the basement, in the spare rooms.  We cooked elaborate meals, threw big parties, birthed big babies.  We made that space ours.  Our rainbow house.  Each color a piece of me, a piece of us, a little it of story. 

The narrative unfolds.