It's not that I haven't written all this time. I've just been writing in my head and my heart. At night while I'm lying in bed, in the morning when I watch the birds on the snow, during quiet evenings when the fireplace glows a thousand colors- I sort through words and put them together till they feel good. They just haven't found their way to paper yet...
We've had a cold winter here. Luckily the cabin is small and the fireplace big. And the fact that we don't have to venture out unless we are starving helps us accept it somewhat.
There are days I feel shackled by these walls, bound by my little counter and stove, crushed into a corner full of too many clothes, overflowing papers, and boxes of who- knows- what.
But other days I feel exposed, open, lacking those proper walls and boundaries that secure privacy.
I've come to realize there is no happy medium. But such is the case in any home, so I roll with it.
There are days when I awaken and feel a dull sense of pain. A tiny, throbbing homesickness. A quick stab of nostalgia.
It's in those moments I look back to the big house we left. To soft carpeting underfoot, a collection of glassware displayed in a cupboard, a deep, warm bathtub filled with bubbles, the smell of fabric softener drifting from the laundry room, a shelf stacked with good books, a favorite table to play games, a place to listen to sweet music, a favorite chair....
It's also in these moments that I forget why we moved here.
We moved here because it is magic.
Once you come down that forest road and through the rusty gate it's obvious that this place is special. A big red barn, a tiny little cabin, and giant oaks that spread their arms in every season. A friendly scarecrow, an abundant garden, and flowers that sing. Secret pathways through the woods, wildlife that shows up at unexpected moments, and butterflies that dance among the dandelions. The fire pit glowing with embers, a stack of freshly cut wood, straight lines mowed across a green lawn, and a creek that bubbles from the earth. At night there are stars so thick and bright that they take your breath away. You just stare up at the night sky and say, " Ahhhhhh..."
These are the things that matter.
Not the little house or the fancy things. Not the extra room or extra things.
And I ask the good Lord right now to not ever let me become callous or indifferent to this beauty. Don't ever let me be looking over the fence when paradise is under my feet. Please let me breathe this fresh air, explore these wonderful woods, and enjoy these simple pleasures for all my life.