Three weeks ago, Rob and I packed up our (very) small duplex and moved a few miles west into a magical world of white walls, wood floors, a full sized-fridge, a grapefruit tree (!) and an actual backyard. While a house may just be a house, a home is where the good, true, and authentic moments settle into the cracks and crevices, and I’m so very excited to create a new home to share with the people we love. In a way, I think I’d forgotten how important this is to me - the work of putting together a space that feels like an extension of our thoughts, experiences, and curiosities- and I’m so thankful for such a lovely, blank slate from which to dream.

A few days ago, Rob and I decided to take the dogs for a walk, and as we put on their leashes and headed out, I was overwhelmed with the heavy, wonderful realization that we are in the sweetest of seasons. If there is anything I’ve learned in the past few years, it is to acknowledge and soak in the waters of the good stuff - the peace, the calm, the contentment- and to appreciate the gentle waves that surround you in preparation for the rougher waters that almost always lie ahead. Yes, my job has been stressful, and our dogs are getting older and more expensive by the minute, and my car may stop working any moment, and sometimes Rob and I want to kick each other in the shins, but goodness, life feels pure and approachable right now. And I don’t want to take that feeling for granted.

The world is hurting in so many ways- and not just today, but yesterday, and the day before that, and tomorrow, and next week, and next month. The division is real, and the pain is true, and sometimes it can be difficult for me to recognize my own contentment in the midst of all of this without feeling tremendous guilt. But here is what I know: in these moments, I have the power to see, acknowledge, and call out the good. I also have the choice to sit in it, embrace it, and then let it empower me to wade out into the rough waters so that I can help those around me see the good as well. There is no shame in recognizing joy, just as there is no weakness in acknowledging pain. These two things can co-exist. Sometimes I forget this. And it may sounds silly, but I’m thankful for our small, new house and its big, blossoming grapefruit tree for helping to help remind me.