Home

Well. We've moved. And I feel like an episode of Green Acres every freaking day. It's good to have space, and it's such a nice old farm house. But... well... it's an old farm house. And I guess any change leaves a person wondering if they made the right choice or if they should have stayed where they were, or at least chosen something else.
That's how I feel about change. I'm buried in boxes and more cupboards than I know what to do with, but I don't have energy for unpacking a ton of things every day because my back gets sore really fast. And I'm afraid to lift too many things or too heavy of things because it gives me contractions. Everyone said being pregnant and moving is a good idea, but I would surely like to have some energy. (I blame a lot of this on being anemic still, despite the stupid suppliments I take every day).
So. Here we are. And this little poem from a mother's day gift we gave my mom 25 years ago has been going through my head: "A house is made of bricks and stone, but a mother's touch makes it home".
This mother... sort of wishes we'd done things the "normal" way, you know. The way the Joneses do. Sell your old house and move into a bigger, newer one. Or build one that's even better.
But we haven't gone that route, and we never have been one of the Jonses so.... here we are. And I'm happy. And I love the space. And the quiet is nice. But it isn't what I'm used to. It will be amazing once I get everything unpacked. It really will. I guess I'm impatient too, along with perpetually discontent.
Maybe I'll never actually be happily content with where I am. But I'd rather take a lesson from my grandma and find peace and joy in every situation. I'd rather just be at home here.