We moved into a new little cottage just down the street from where we living (from a black and white attic to a little cottage with a porch!) that seemed to have our name on the door.. The process of finding a place for everything, it feels so good. (I’ve been shuffling a Majestic palm from sunny corner to shady corner trying to figure out where it’s happiest.)
A few days where the temperature dropped and all the leaves seemed to fall off the trees at the same time got me cpmpletely crazy for all things soft and Autumn-ish (A lot of candle and dresses with boots and velvets) but that didn’t last, it’s already 80 degrees again and I had to fish out the few things I had just put away..
I feel like with all this movement, I’we’ve put away so many little pieces of ourselves, little fragments here and there, to be collected at a more convenient time. Tools, papers, memories, china, friends, family.. I was thinking about France where I had been living for nearly 6 years before coming back 3 years ago.. I spent an evening catching up with friends who filled me in to the things I may have missed, birthdays, gossip, babies, weddings and a few deaths and I thought about how far away I felt from a huge part of myself. I really can’t wait till Brandon and I can visit.
My old courtyard
Streetlights guiding the way
A few of my beloved
I think about that and it doesn’t make me sad, on the contrary, I’m lucky to have such a place to call a home too.
Today I feel a need to hold on to the things I call mine, maybe from being so scattered, yet I’ve been methodically getting rid of almost everything I own because it makes traveling easier. I crave being able to make the things that I surround myself with. I fight this urge to instantly fill the house up with new trinkets because it feels natural to blow all your money on a new house when it’s empty, but this time I realize that in a few weeks we’re going to PICK UP the stuff that’s in storage in Austin and actually take it back here.
This is strange and new. Usually (and my mother and I did this a lot, Brandon and I have picked up the habot as well.) we pack it up, entrust it to someone’s garage, and never pick it up again. I believe that all over France, maybe hawaii, and California and Corsica, are cardboard boxes filled with records and clothes and memories. How strange it will be to actually come back to collect these things.
Bits and Pieces of Past Homes
The time we made our house into a gypsy tent fort and never took it down..
I can’t WAIT to recollect our mystery boxes and unpack. Yee!
My goal is to not move out any time soon.