We are home.
Without sounding cliche, this space here is ours, maybe it always has been. I hold my breath when I think back on the last year of searching, waiting, and pacing. While it seemed impossible at the time, finding the right place to lay our head down at night and build our family tree was actually easy. Be patient, be positive, and jump when the opportunity strikes. Cliche, yes, but true nonetheless.
Boxes are still scattered, K lost all of his ties, and the dogs have figured out there are ample opportunities to play hide and seek, but we have effortlessly found a new groove and routine. True, we have yet to meet a single neighbor except for the family of five deer. But friends down the street and community have filled that need. Everything will come in due time.
I say it hasn't hit me, but at this point I'm not sure if things necessarily hit anyone. Instead, we maybe have moments of clarity where we see ourselves suddenly but thoroughly engulfed in new roles and experiences. It didn't hit me that we are married but instead I feel the steady jolt of electricity when I reflect on the strong marriage we've developed. This house too will not strike me now but instead in many years as hydrangeas have grown twice as large and children are busy with homework on the dining room table. A house is one thing but it takes time to build a home.
I drive home after work, tired and worried about the little ones who I need to do more for. The road winds along the canal and our town pushes deeper into the valley with every turn. The mountains dip in and out of view. On some days they are icy and crystal and vivid against the blue sky. Mostly, unapologetically, they hide behind the marine layer as it hangs low in the evergreens. I drive and keep my eye on above the horizon, either conversing with the mountains or telling them "fine, I'll look at the trees instead". I turn and the road becomes the mountain, the cement creating switchbacks and the trees canopying above.
My heart rate settles and speeds up again as I climb that mountain in my car, approaching the drive way. This is ours, on top of this mountain, where the snow falls more frequently, the dirt is filled with rocky terrain, and all the possibility of what life offers, awaits.