I don't want to forget about the basement. The basement suite that was our first home as a married couple; and shortly after our first home as a family. What it lacked in windows it made up for in coziness. It was a good first home. Even if there weren't enough windows and it was dark. Even if it felt almost cave-like at times. Even if its perfect temperature, whether summer or winter, deceived me into staying inside all day. Or for three days straight. Even if the chlorine in the city water irritated my skin. I don't want to forget any of that. Good or bad, with all of its quirks, comforts and darkness, for a time it was home. It was a place to practice love and learn the depths of grace.
I don't want to forget it, even if we had to move out of it. Too soon the time came, when our baby would crawl and fall and seemed to fly from wall to wall of our small suite. We were joyful that he was growing, but sad that this home, would soon be outgrown. We had no reason to fear moving. It would be a lot of work, but we knew we could do it. After all, on the other end of that move was a 3 bedroom house full of light. Full of potential. Surrounded by green grass and blackberries. A place that is close enough to the city, but still makes me feel right at home in a rural setting. A place that's older and full of history. A place with yellow floral wallpaper in the kitchen. A house that fits our family like a wetsuit. A home that makes me feel ruined for living anywhere else.
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Jordan is...A mother, artist, designer and loyal friend. May this blog bring you hope and a normalization of both emotion and logic. Archives
March 2021
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