Tres Meses
It's hard to believe, really, that a quarter of a year has gone by since that incredible day when we returned to the Dordogne and finally got a chance to look around our house again. We liked what we saw on that day, and happily enough (woo woo) we still do. We love it, in fact.
And while resisting the urge toward the maudlin (what is it about humans, this maudlin thing? people like to do it, but no one likes to see it (at least no one with any taste)), I have to say that the 3-month milestone gives me some chance to reflect. We have all learned a ton. Never owned a house before, and looking back on our pre-signing, from-memory floor plans, I have to chuckle. Because at this point, I could redraw it so much better off the top of my head, and including every pipe, every wire, every cranny, crevice and feature. I've learned how it works, and how it could work better.
Kepler's learned a whole lotta French. Bizarrely enough, we got a sort of report card from his teacher for the past term, and while she's startlingly impatient with his speaking, she does note that he seems to understand what people say and what's going on around him. He's so earnest about everything, he really dives right in to life. We are so proud of him.
After three months of talking about our house, making midnight excursions into the basement to discuss this wall, or examine that door, to see where the supporting beam crosses beneath the floor, and how the attic rests upon the ceiling, Sarah and I still seem to like each other. We've been to countless antique shops, DIY stores, websites together, hammered out a starting plan for the whole future of the house, and for the most part we generally agree on things. Considering how much of our time we spend together, I'd call it a major triumph.
But mostly, looking around the house tonight, the biggest sense I got was that, more than anywhere else, we are home. Our tree twinkles. Our floors and walls bear evidence of past lives and past travels, both together and apart, intermixed into a single present. Kepler is happy. So are we. A year ago today, we were eating Black Angus ribeyes in a Mississippi town that, in the intervening period, has been all but destroyed. Tonight, I'm a world away from that. Happily so. We have lots of plans, but for the moment, we're happy being cosy and warm and together in our very own home for the holidays. Life is good.
