In The Trees.

A year ago today, I woke up and took my camera to the annual MotherWoman Breakfast. It was taking place nearly on top of a mountain, where a freak snowfall had fallen. We were all surprised. And this was before the monster snowstorm, that many of us still hadn’t taken seriously yet, was to come. I took photos of the snow on the outdoor pumpkins and the view of the frost on fall foliage in the valley. I was six weeks pregnant and unable to keep it quiet from a few friends over pastries.

I then lingered a bit after the breakfast had ended, because I couldn’t stop talking with friends and strangers, and prepared myself for the cold and nearly empty house I was to come home to. It was Moving Day. I was ready. Pregnant but ready.

And thus began the weird day and the even weirder days that followed. The disorientation. The smell of new wood and new paint. The smells that once made me nauseous, only because they were new smells and I was new pregnant, but now fill me with a sense of comfort and home. It may be a forever home. It may not be a forever home. What I do know is that it’s their childhood home. It will be filled with rituals and traditions and walks in the woods and secret hiding places. It already is.

And of course, the thick woods and trees that surround our house. I’ve meant for months now to take photos of the light in the woods. It always looks to me like there is so much life and soul in there, looking out and wondering about us.

And then there is the house itself. Consider this a year in review of a pretty steady year, at least house-wise. Such a solid, strong home. A new(ish) home. In a house so steady, we all missed the recent earthquake. It has good bones.

Just last week, we went to a party that was right in our old backyard. It was a party thrown by our old next door neighbors, and the new tenant of our townhouse had kindly lent her yard for the bounce house for the kids. It was quite fun for Scarlet, but in the beginning, she burrowed her head in Cassidy’s neck. She was so weirded out by being in our old yard. She remembered it well! And truly I thought that by moving her at merely two-years-old would magically erase her memory of the horrors and stress that moving can inflict on parents. And kids. But, no. The heart remembers what the heart remembers.

And yet, she’s so secure in our new house. She’s so at home in our new home. She (most likely) won’t have to move at five-years-old, which I did, and hated. And she (most likely) won’t have to move at fourteen-years-old, which Cassidy did, and hated even more. And Des, well, he’ll only ever remember this as his baby/childhood home. (Most likely) And it’s so good.

Even though it’s Halloween, she waves her Memorial Day flag proudly.

A year ago today, we took to the trees to start our dreams. These are the things I like to remember.