Home Again
I snapped a photo of myself, nearly identical to this one, in my old studio on the day we moved in. That was almost three years ago now. The walls were baby blue and a big white built-in cabinet sat to my right along the southwest wall - but the winter light was just the same and I remember feeling the same hope bubbling in my chest on that day, too.
The kind of hope that said and says, “you’re on the right path - keep going!!”
As of Sunday, we have officially moved out of our teal-colored ranch and into our new country home. All of last week, while we made trip after trip between houses, I kept waiting to be hit with the sorrow of our leaving. Maybe it’s still coming, but I haven’t felt it yet. In the end, I realized that what I loved most about that house was the treasures we curated (all of which moved with us) and the projects we completed ourselves (all things that we can do again in the new house). I guess I just don’t feel like I’ve left too much behind.
All of this to say, home is where the studio is. And the new studio? Before moving in the ridiculous amount of tools and supplies I’ve squirreled away over the years, it looked like this:
Can you say popcorn ceiling? And a nasty, chain link dog run just outside? And a southern exposure that will have me absolutely melting in the summer if we don’t rig up a shade solution?
Well, sure.
But you could also say unobstructed foothill views. And an absolute glut of natural light. And more square footage than I’ve ever had to play with before. I’m sitting so far on the bright side that at this moment any and all negatives have all but disappeared from my vantage point on this joyful perch.
Sadness over the move was also drown out by the terror (which was quickly followed by the elation) of learning to tow a trailer. Its a skill I’ve been worried about tackling for years and years - something I had built a mental wall around, saying it was something I just couldn’t DO. But you can’t put a washer and a dryer and an oven in the back our truck…at least not easily!
My dad helped us hook it up (being that this bad boy was one of his work trailers) and then I was behind the wheel and rolling. I think it took about three minutes before I was feeling like a badass, saying things like “I’m doing the thing!!” and “we’re TOWING!!” To his credit, Eric made out to be VERY impressed (and even snapped this photo to commemorate the experience).
If you’re shaking your head at the absurdity of this, and by “this” I mean me shouting at the top of my lungs in our little truck cab because I was SO excited, I don’t blame you. Lots of people tow trailers (and any number of other more complicated things). You just have to understand that I really, truly believed I’d never count myself among them.
I navigated the busy streets in town. Backed both truck and trailer over the beastly curb and into the driveway at our old house. Carefully made my way over washboards and potholes on dirt roads. Loaded, unloaded, turned around, and parked in the tight alley behind my dad’s shop. I had help, of course - with my non-existent experience I couldn’t have done it alone - but it was one of the most empowering experiences of my life. I cannot wait until the day when I get to load up Cirrus and Paloma and head out on an adventure.
It’s so wonderfully strange to finally be here - HERE - after dreaming of this place for so long. It doesn’t look much like the “someday farm” I’d imagined, but it’s real and solid and there’s so much space to BECOME. Become what, I can’t yet say - but it’s going too be glorious no matter what.
