as i sit on the floor of our bedroom in our still-very-new house folding clothes, i can hear a classical piano piece come over the speakers in the other room. within a minute, i find myself brought to tears. why? i’m not sure. classical always makes me think of my parents and their love for music. certain pieces specifically, have me seeing the past through the eyes of a much younger me. watching mom clean the house. cook. care for us. see us snapping beans. playing outside. laughing around the dinner table. sitting in front of the fire. my parents loving each other. and suddenly i’m smacked by the reality of my parents, and the more-than-one house that they made our homes. how instead of flopping to the couch and watching netflix every night, they sat at a dinner table and talked about their day. their hopes for the week. the month. the year. they wrangled us and all our belongings without bitterness or jealousy.
i feel my excitement for this house. the possibility. the nooks i want to fill, and the spaces i want to transform. and i realize how they must have felt it too. the same puzzles of figuring out new space. the same desire to create this warm and inviting atmosphere. and then i remember what absolute little shits we were about so much of it…. my parents are really incredible people. in this moment, i am overwhelmed with love and gratitude and memories. so emotional. am i just being a woman? am i pregnant? am i drunk? yes, no, pretty sure no…. but i guess ultimately i’m just so thankful for my family and that we’re close. and that they’re all still here. and i’m not big into sharing my feeling with them very often… but sometimes while everyone is still here i want them to know they’re pretty much my favorite people on the planet. so tonight this is what is on my mind. at least for the several minutes this classical is streaming through my pandora and writing this.
for now. more wine. and maybe some netflix…
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