it is the dead of night and my two loves sleep sound in the bed upstairs. dreams dancing like smoke into a dreamcatcher made from leaves, twigs and vines from our overgrown yard. bare skin warm against bare skin, a cold winter chill on vulnerable eyelids.
home used to be a thousand feet above the ground. home was within us wherever we went. now home is here, with my family and a house that is growing into a nest of our inspirations and ideas.
i feel stuck in this house sometimes. travelling gave me purpose and left me with no time to think deeply. my days are filled with the endless projects we begin and the joy of my daughter, but then comes the night and my head gets loud and sleep is hard to find. life has been kind to me, but it wasn’t always kind.
at times it is easier to regard the past as something that happened to someone else, like a girl in a novel or a film. at other times it’s too difficult to pretend.
but the morning comes and the most beautiful little girl in the world smiles the smile of the boy i love, with eyes aglow like mine and i can’t possibly be any happier. i feel my heart constantly growing to allow room for all the love i have for her.
every overseas trip has fallen through this year, and so i begin to believe maybe it is for the better. maybe alba needs a little more time to adjust to this world from the safety of our house. and that is okay.
these are the times we will look back on wishfully, when we are lost in a foreign country or waiting in long lines at airports. we will think, didn’t we have it good, all that stillness. so i teach myself to feel alive in the day-to-day and to appreciate finally having a real home and family.