One of the biggest things to happen in our lives happened two weeks ago. We sold our house. We accepted an offer, did a little victory dance in our soul, and jabbered in excitement about all of the possibilities our future might hold.
We sold our house. I've written so many innuendos about how we wished it would happen and how this big dream was churning within us of oh the places we could go.
And then we did it. (We didn't actually do a thing, but we happened to have the best realtor in town. Who also happened to be my dad.)
Jessica is a writer and amateur photographer in Lincoln, Nebraska. She began writing after the birth of her second child when she found she needed an outlet for her creative energy. Soon after she began taking pictures, and since has used her blog as a "canvas" for pairing her unique photos with poetic writing. She finds inspiration for her writing through her husband and their two boys.
We all did it.
We are moving on. What we are moving on to, we have no idea, and the clock is ticking with such force for us to figure out which house we will choose for boys, for our family. We don't have a lot of time to make the transition. So we did what any logical family would do. We went on vacation.
And did it ever feel good. We drove, 12 hours South, to Texas to see my Mamaw (which means Grandma. Anyone with West Virgina lineage has a beloved Mamaw.) And it felt good. In the moment, in the 12 hours of moments of whining babies and screeching vocal chords, and dirty diapers, and waning, waning, waning, patience, it DOES NOT always feel good.
But when I look back, after it happened, and look back on the experience that my babies and my husband and me had together...it feels very, very, very good.
So good that sometimes there are not enough "very's"
It was almost a year ago that we spent a reckless set of heartbreaking 12 hours driving to Texas last year. When my Papaw (grandpa) was lying in a hospital bed and 12 hours away from my last I love you and last goodbye. And I have had this weeping hole in my heart ever since. Almost a year from his passing, there was still a hole.
But making the trip again, only this time with joy, I feel...justified. Like my hole and my weeping are ok, but that Papaw is also ok, and it's alright not to hurt any longer. So I didn't. I didn't hurt, but I watched my boys and just how boyish they have become. So big. And so boyish.
And. I. Love. It.
These ornery, growing, lively, boys.
Emphasis on the ornery.
Bub especially looked so big, So boyish. So grown from the last time we were in Texas and we had his makeshift 3rd birthday party hours before my Papaw's funeral.
Just look at what he is becoming---
Amazing is what he is becoming. Amazing.
We had a lot of moments on our vacation. A lot of serenity, a lot of stretched, thin, and breaking patience from two trying little boys. But it was wonderful. It was life, and it was wonderful.
And in quiet, beautiful moments, I felt my grandpa. And I felt like he felt I was doing a good job.
And for this vacation, that was the only thing that mattered.
Read more from Jessica at bubandteebs.com