Feels Like Home

Yesterday, I came home to find M puttering around in the kitchen. He was making an apple crisp, part our pre-determined dinner plans. I chopped lettuce for caesar salads (with home-made dressing), and reheated stuffed salmon from the weekend. We sat outside on the patio to eat in the cool of late evening. Sunlight reflecting off our white back fence turned peachy and then rosy while the sky slowly faded through lavendar to navy.

There's plum suckers poking up again, and the dandelion army has returned. The roses need dead heading, again, and the apple's a little wayward and sprawling. There's significant room for improvement, but it's starting to feel like home.

Next week will be three months since we moved in. Scott's visited, and we've had some friends over for dinner. The boxes remain a prominent decorating scheme, and the living room's chaotic. Don't even ask about the guest room. There's a lot left to do, and not enough time for doing it, but it's starting to really feel like our place.

We're talking about big plans, and trying to sort out next year's finances along with stablizing this year's. Life's full of big thoughts right now. It keeps me going, which is good because work is nearly all nose-to-the-grindstone and stress. Coming home to our own place is a good enough reason to keep going out that door in the morning and dealing with all of this.