The View from Where I Sit, Part 2.

As I look out at our very large, very overgrown backyard, I can’t help but think,

“Man. I’m really glad Dennis will take care of most of this.” Ha.

(No, but really.)

Let’s back up a bit. So in February this happened:

 

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Then not too long after, this happened:

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And the past few months have been a flurry of house buying, engagement pictures, house selling, contractors, wedding planning, Home Depot, MORE contractors, MORE HOME DEPOT.

By the end of 2015, I will have changed my marital status, my last name, my address, and perhaps most importantly, finally become an Amazon Prime member.

Not going to lie, I worry a little bit that this year is filled with so much good stuff that future years are bound to be a disappointment. But deep down I know that’s not possibly true. There is still so much to discover and learn about life. And I’m looking forward to having some one else to explore all of that with.

And from where I sit today?

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This is the actual view from our bedroom. It’s a real problem because all I want to do is sit here all day and drink coffee and write.

Everything’s looking pretty lovely.

The View from Where I Sit, Part 1.

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The view from where I sit is, well, a little desolate. A shell.

I’m sitting on the floor of my little Blue Cottage. Empty, except for the curtains that I designed and created with my mom. Looking at the walls I spent hours painting, the kitchen cabinets I refinished. The vision I had for my first little house as a 27-year-old.

And I’m about to hand it all off to another young woman who, I’m sure, has her own visions and dreams of what life here will be like.

It’s funny how quickly things can seem to change.

I mean, don’t get me wrong. Change is exactly what I was hoping for. I had been praying and planning that my time here would be temporary. That sometime in the near future I would get to move up to a bigger, more permanent house (check) with a husband (almost check) and some chubby babies (let’s not move that fast…)

It’s just that it’s exactly as hard as everyone always tells you it’s going to be. Shocking. Giving up your individual identity. Compromising your space, and style, and routine for someone else. Giving up “my” things for “our” things.

It’s a strange, difficult feeling. Right? Or am I alone in this? The feeling that everything that you’ve been wanting is finally coming together, but that life is moving just steam-rolling along and taking you with it?

If you’re confused it’s because a whole year of my life has passed and I haven’t been writing. It’s been HUGE. 2015, the year of turning 30, has not been a disappointment. More details in Part 2!