It's been almost 2 months since we've moved into our new home and our yard is finally covered in white. I've been waiting for the day when the snow starts to fall; when I'd wake up and look out the window to see that our little house, our house, was buried in a globe.
Winter is my favorite time of year. It gives me an extra excuse to stay inside and heat the house with the oven while I bake cookies late into the night. That way I get to watch the snowflakes dance in the frame of the windows; bright against the smokey sky.
This house is magic.
There is this surreal, hazy feeling I get when I look around our new kitchen. It's at least 3 times the size of the one I grew up in. There's a window in front of the sink where I can wash my dishes and watch the plants on the windowsill soak up the sun.
The smell of chocolate and coffee are so much stronger here.
I'm having a hard time comprehending this new reality. I feel a certain kind of thankfulness, but a lot of confusion.
How did we get here?
Do we deserve all of this?
There will always be apart of me that avoids rest for that reason. I feel the constant urge to earn it. There's no time to stop and marvel; I keep moving. I've reached an important point in my life, where I can't stop watching the snow fall from the kitchen window in disbelief so I keep washing those dishes to make more cookies.
This is ours.
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