It occurred to me last week, as I was running errands with Cecilia on my hip that this might be the beginning of the rest of my life. I liked it, it felt good. To make small talk with my community and have there be nothing "special" about me... For the last year of my life whenever I've gone somewhere I've been pregnant (and that's a big fuss), or I've had a newborn baby (and that's an even bigger fuss) or I've been preparing for a wedding (and that's a fuss of a different nature!). However now there's no fanfare, I'm just myself and it's so nice. I think I might have been waiting my whole life to have this feeling.
It's a feeling of being settled. Of being Home. Of setting roots deep into the soil, into my family and into myself. It's learning the cycles of planting garlic, of planting a garden, of enriching the dirt with poop. It's knowing my farmer. Knowing my banker. Knowing my midwife. It's holding hands with my husband across the dinner table every night and knowing he'll be there to hold onto in the middle of the night, or in the mid-morning, or in the mid-afternoon. It's contentment sprinkled atop a spoonful of honey. I'm feeling so thankful that I am settled into this home with these people surrounding me.
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