I’m sitting in my dream house in the first piece of furniture we bought for it drinking coffee and reading a JD Robb book on my kindle app, and I’m crying.
I know the move was the right answer. When you pray and ask God to open or close doors and the doors fly off the hinges and disintegrate into dust, you don’t ignore that.
Still, I love this town and I loved my job and loved my people here.
When I’m in Ft. Worth it’s different. I don’t feel this ache, this crazy heartbreak I didn’t expect.
We’re not gone for good yet. There’s still stuff to be moved and we have the big sale planned for Labor Day weekend, but the dream house we built that we turned into a home feels lonely now.
I don’t know where this heart pang-y emotion all comes from. Maybe it’s because this morning we sat on the back porch. Brian ate yummy chocolate chip cookies and I drank a protein shake and we just kind of basked in the wind brought on by an August cold front. If you’ve never lived in North Texas you might not understand the sheer joy of that moment.
Or maybe it’s that the house echoes now that it’s mostly empty.
Or maybe it’s that I took Emmie for a walk around the neighborhood this morning and when we came home she went to her box and sulked.
Wherever it comes from, I’m glad we had the last three and a half years in our house. And one day I know we’ll have mornings on the back porch again. Maybe not here, but here will always be part of us. ❤️