Staying satisfied in the missing

So, the first day of spring was last week.

And everybody has been whining about the absence of sun and warm temperatures, and how the Easter Bunny will need Rudolph’s help to deliver eggs, and how spring chicks need parkas and all that.

And I get it.

But I have to say, that my spring thoughts have bypassed the flowers and the temperatures, and have gone straight to a place that I’m finding unexpected.  I can appreciate the sun, and opening a few windows, but more than those…..I’m longing for my Tennessee home.

I can’t seem to get this photo out of my head:

I know it may seems innocuous.  But to me, it captures the essence of peace and tranquility and utter belonging I felt the entire time we lived in our White House home.  Maybe it is because we’ve recently put that home on the market, and I know our ownership of a place where we were so happy is coming to an end….

There were aspects to our time in Tennessee that were hard.  Unexpected.  Disappointing, even.  But our HOME was an amazing place of refuge and fellowship and safety.  I can’t tell you  the number of times I stood at this very kitchen window and thought, “I love this place.  I LOVE this place.”

And I am missing it so….

The mushrooms that sprouted up in the front plant beds after too much rain

The sidewalk, with just enough slope to send little cars speeding into the neighbors’ yards

The view from the central window, where curious eyes could observe and learn in secret

The spot at the bottom of the stairs that was perfect for playing catch

The kitchen cabinets

The way that sunlight seemed to always pour in through the back doors

 

Our tree out front, that was always – and I mean ALWAYS – the last to lose its leaves

I miss the little dinette table, and having little friends over for chicken nuggets and grapes

 

The banister, and the unmistakable sound of little feet coming to find me in the morning

The view from the back bedroom windows

 

Jamie, and her precious family being right up the street.
I miss being able to see her garage door open and shut from my front porch.

I’m thankful today for my spacious playroom, don’t get me wrong.
But I also miss having my whole word contained to one room….I do.

I miss the way this room felt….I miss the anticipation of waiting for our baby girl….

 

Oh, how I miss my front porch.
My black door, and the beautiful lights we pick out to replace the dated brass fixtures.

The woods behind our house.  I so wanted to let Seth explore here as he grew…

I miss having Las Maracas only a few minutes away.  Even more, I miss having any number of families we could call at a moments notice, and say, “Hey, Mexican tonight?”

 

I miss this view so much my heart aches.

I even miss “Not Ralph” aka Bella.

I miss the creek.  I miss watching Seth enjoy this little slice of heaven in our own backyard.

 

Our tree, and Duncan’s windchime

Our deck, and the landscaping Jim worked so hard to perfect

The red half-bath, where potty training woes were vanquished

My roses, so lovingly tended around Duncan’s stone

Neighbors that my children adored…even if engine revving woke them from naps too soon

Mature trees that shed their leaves for autumn fun

Oh, 116.  I miss you.

I really, truly thought White House would be our forever home.  And more often than I like to admit, I’m still very sad that it isn’t going to be.

Let me again state, I’m so thankful for our current home.  The comfortable, large space that gives the kids room to sprawl, and even allows for us to be hospitable in exceptional ways.  We have good neighbors in a great school system.  We are back to the same ZIP code as much of our family – and that, right there, the family thing, you can’t put a price on.

But if I’m being honest, I’m restless.  I miss my Tennessee home fiercely.  I’m still peeling back the layers of why that is, and what I REALLY miss the most (I’m smart enough to realize that it’s probably not bricks and maple trees and Sherwin Williams paint).

But there you have it….