Creating permanence.

I keep thinking about how I get to experience all the seasons with him. All of them in a row, not distinct and separate memories with him in each. And while I love all of our amazing long distance memories and how special they are in our story and to us, there is something so lovely about experiencing the first few days of chill after a (very long Southern) summer. Curling up on the couch, hot chocolate, late night tv and movies, sleeping in on the weekend, sweatshirts and blankets; though in its own timing, my favorite season has finally arrived.

The cool weather around here gives way to open windows and finally turning the air conditioning off. The animals could not be more thrilled. Leah likes to sit in the open windowsill and watch her sister outside nose around while I clean or cook inside. I have never been so eager to bring my scarves and boots and long sleeves out from far back in my closet. And our weekly menus now display meals like pot roast and soups.

The windows were open for another reason this weekend; because our bedroom reeked of paint fumes. We spent hours and hours on Saturday doing a first coat and then finished Sunday afternoon with a second and final coat to cover the generic tan color that is splattered over all of our house's walls. We are so happy with the results and I am starting to infuse a second teal/seafoam color into our gray bedroom. There is something so final and permanent and investing about spending so much time painting and laboring over something. It's what makes it truly yours and I am so glad to feel so invested into this home already. Every decoration, nail in the wall, and paint color we are in the process of choosing makes it feel more and more ours. Our choices. Our memories. Our comfort and stability and permanence. We are growing here and planting and investing our memories and lives and time and work. And that is a truly fulfilling feeling in a home that was once someone else's.

But now feels nothing but ours.