I caught myself singing while doing the dishes tonight.
I heard myself making pee and poop jokes with Alden several times over the last few days, catching his startled, delighted double take and peals of disbelieving laughter.
I saw myself say Yes to a friend who asked for help, a small favor, really, but one that might have seemed too much, a few months back.
I noticed an emotion before it controlled my reaction, a few times, small things, intersections, conversations.
There is more light in the days, there is more day to stretch out in.
We have more space in our house and spaces that are beautiful and more functional than we have ever had. This house, this rebuild, this labor of love, this leap of faith.
Like hibernating badgers emerging from winter sleep we uncurl, stretch out and seek company, welcome friends, spill into the yard and the streets and greet neighbors, make food, make music. We’re finding each other, too, here at home— strange, because we’ve been right here all along, but we see each other, blinking in the light, “Oh hi!” The wonder. “I’ve missed you.”