Tag: Musings

2 min read

Family on the Road

Nostalgia

Jenn

2 min read

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2 min read

Today Thing One asked, “Do you think someday I’ll be nostalgic for this trip? For living in the RV?” Right now I’m laying on our bed, Brent napping silently next…

Today Thing One asked, “Do you think someday I’ll be nostalgic for this trip? For living in the RV?”

Right now I’m laying on our bed, Brent napping silently next to me, as winter storm approaches over the distant mountains. Thing One and Thing Two are playing a game of chess, an insisted upon break from technology.

The peace is engulfing.

Dead Can Dance is playing over the stereo bringing back memories of college. Memories of conversations filled with questions. The sort of questions we seem to forget to ask as we grow older. Memories of groggy but happy mornings after a late night dancing with friends. Memories of exhilaration contemplating the unknown and “open road” of an entire life ahead of you.

Then my thoughts drift to the smell of Rosie’s barn and my 11 years old hands rubbing the muzzle of my horse, my first true love…

I’m so nostalgic that sometimes I miss things that have yet to happen.

Returning to the present…

Yes, Thing One and Thing Two, someday I think you’ll hear a Muzak version of Radiohead in an elevator and remember meals and family prayers around our little dinette. The mention of Harry Potter won’t bring back memories of spells and wands but of long drives and shared emotions. The smell of diesel might spark a strange desire to hold the ones you love.

This is why that I’m making a decision to catch up on this little blog, our public diary. For you Thing One. For you Thing Two. For you, my love.

For us.

When that nostalgia hits I want us to be able to pull these memories down off a shelf and remember the beignets covered with mounds of powdered sugar in New Orleans. Remember the excitement of riding the subway in New York. Remember cozy days on the couch doing school. Remember the winter we spent riding snowboards like magic carpets.

Remember when your crazy parents moved you into an RV to live like newschool nomads and we shared a closeness that I know will leave me aching with nostalgia.

Love and Laughter,
Jenn

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Limbo

Jenn

2 min read

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2 min read

Boxes have replaced dressers and nightstands. Mattresses sit on the floor. Old toys en route to new homes whisper memories of little boys. A rainbow of threads is scattered under…

Boxes have replaced dressers and nightstands. Mattresses sit on the floor. Old toys en route to new homes whisper memories of little boys. A rainbow of threads is scattered under the kitchen table where my friend and I spent three days making not just curtains but memories.

We’ve said our goodbyes and yet we are still here tying up the loose ends. It makes for a strange state of mind. Today, I sat on the floor folding my laundry as if it was an ordinary day. A day where I would wake up in my bed, a bed that is no more. A day where I would sit at my desk, a desk who days are coming to an end. A day where I would school the boys on the couch, a couch who has moved on. A day where I would drive the streets I know, the streets that I will miss.

For a moment, I wanted it to be any ordinary day. There is so much beauty in the ordinary when we see with our hearts. I desperately wanted the boxes and bags to disappear. I wanted to slip seamlessly back into my routine. I wanted to know, as much as is possible, what tomorrow would bring.

I held onto the laundry on my lap as if it were an anchor.

Peel enough layers and there is fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear that paralyzes and moves me. Fear that smothers and ignites me. Ignites trust. Trust in a God who loves.

Meow Cow has taken to napping in his travel bag. It seems he is trying to tell us something.

We said our goodbyes.

Yet we are still here.

But not really.

Love and Laughter,
Jenn