Summertime at Home

Summer so far has been nothing short of PERFECT in my eyes. We finally have a back yard that I feel comfortable enjoying. Myles loves his sandbox and water table and Ben has plenty of room to kick his soccer ball. My parents gifted us with a picnic table that my mom built. We splurged on a big fire bowl over Memorial Day weekend and we’ve already had two impromptu parties with friends gathered around our backyard bonfire. It’s barely June and we’ve been taking full advantage of sunny days so far.

I really can’t express how content my heart is this first summer in our new home. I knew I felt some anxiety in our past rental properties, but I never realized HOW uncomfortable I really was till now. It’s a huge weight off me to finally be comfortable in my own home.

In part, it’s the memories of endless childhood summers spent playing in this same yard that make me feel so at home. When I walk out our back door, I can almost feel grandma there by my side, carrying out her freshly laundered sheets to hang on the clothes line. My grown feet walk in the same steps I took countless times in my childhood out to the garage to get my bicycle, to the woods to “go on an adventure”, or down to the creek to catch crayfish with the neighbor’s kids.

My childhood was defined by my summers spent in this house and in that yard playing. The echoes of memories live on; the soil and trees and flowers are imbued with them, and I can feel them there. Back when summer vacations felt like they never ended, and you played from sun up to sun down, that’s where you’d find me. Those were my happiest days, and now I find myself in that same place — safe, loved, and feeling whole with my family by my side. I am home.

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