I think I’ve been quiet here because I’ve been in a space of observing and listening. I suppose I feel a bit awed. Okay, a lot awed by our surroundings. Including what goes on inside of my home and the intimacy I am feeling with my boys. Right now Cedar is sleeping on our couch near me in a ball of sunlight shining through our window. I can see the shadows of dragonfly lights that we have hung on our windows on his face. Cedar has never slept anywhere but his bed or our bed. There is a peace dwelling here that we have not felt in so long.

Yesterday we took a trail that is a few streets down in our neighborhood. It led us to an old farm that sits up on a tall hill overlooking the bay and an island and the mountains. We laid out a blanket. We ate. We did more breathing and listening than talking. Our bodies were close. We held one another. Boho Boy’s hand reached for mine if Cedar was between us. I write this with a tear in my eye. So much healing. We’ve had a rough few years. I can feel it slowly melting, walls peeling and a soft underbelly feeling less afraid to exist without so much protectiveness.

The home we are in is so special. The old man that lived here before us left a legacy it seems. Our neighbors talk of him fondly and it warms my heart that they are embracing us in this home. It seems they were waiting for people to live within these walls that captured the spirit of the man who once lived here. One of our favorite neighbors, a new friend of mine, has won my heart. She is moving soon and told me she now feels safe leaving this sweet village knowing that our family will continue to live and breathe the magic of this neighborhood. For nine years I lived in a place where I felt a bit misunderstood and here, within a few short days, I am wrapped up by souls that I feel speak the language of my heart.

{when finishing this post, i thought i would take a photo of cedar sleeping…}